An Unexpected Journey
by AllTheWayMae
Summary: The child managed to wrangle himself a caretaker before winding up on a forsaken desert planet, and she's all in. Not that there's much choice now. Once The Mandalorian shows up, they're all bound for a journey they hadn't counted on and don't fully understand. Thankfully, first impressions never seem to stick. ((Slow burn))
1. Lost and Found

**Chapter 1. Lost and Found**

It's easy to give up on ideas of rescue when any attempt to liberate you from where you are have ended in bloodshed. It's simply loud and scary and, to date, has never ended in change. Only fear and anger.

Still ...she hopes. Being stuck in this place can't be life. She'll ...well, it just can't be.

There has to be a way. Eventually. Maybe when the little guy gets bigger. Stronger. When he can communicate with her. When she can make him understand. He, she thinks, has hardly seen any other life.

Hanna glances down where the child is shuffling around the dusty kitchen room. Not _her_ child ...not really. Not by a long shot if you're talking genetics. Yet she does think of him a such. It certainly ought to be hers more than anyone else on the planet deserves to lay claim to.

But claim they have.

So what will become of the inexplicable pair? It's a question she asks herself regularly despite the pit of anxiety it causes to gnaw in her stomach.

The unmistakable crack of gunfire slaps through her thoughts, causing her to drop the clay bowl in her hands. Occasional gunfire outside is nothing new, so it's the abrupt shattering of the dish against the floor that disturbs the child.

It starts visibly and squeaks up at her.

Hanna waits, but when the cacophony of weapon blasts continues she decides it can't merely be a small spat between the gang guarding them.

"Damn," she scoops up her companion and darts from the room.

Down the hall, she grabs the white "bassinet" crafted crudely for her friend and dashes to a store room.

"Shhh..." she bids, though she's never sure how much it truly understands her, before shutting and hiding the carrier behind some old supplies.

Hanna hears a soft coo and so throws tarping over top of it for good measure.

She mostly has a mind to hide herself, then. To wait out the mess and only emerge when it quiets to see how things pan-out. After all, she's never sure how she _wants_ these spats to land. Whoever is trying to take-over might be worse than the goons she's dealing with now. The Niktos, for isntance, are largely uninterested in her, which is a blessing and a half. Even the baby is a thing they're interested in only because they know it's valuable; they don't truly seem to know what they have. At least this is what she can glean from their (mostly) foreign tongue and general disposition.

To be fair, Hanna herself isn't sure she fully understands what the tyke is all about, either.

Whoever might invade might have a much better idea what is going on here, and that's not necessarily a good thing. The kid could be in more danger. She certainly could be in more danger.

Still. She does what to get out of the desert encampment. There are many better places to be. In her dreams, for instance, a relocation to a city -_ any city, anywhere more populated_ \- means possible escape. Here, well ...there's nowhere to go and the Niktos know it.

So she finds one of the heavily barred windows and climbs up to get a look at what's happening.

Unfortunately there is not much to see outside other than general melee. Blaster fire screeches over the shouting and rabble, but her vantage point offers her little to see until a clanking droid thunders by, twisting a gun in her direction as it does so.

Hanna leaps back just before the blast impacts the windowsill, sending rock shards into a flurry.

Alright.

Okay.

Spy time is over.

Compelled back to the store room, she dashes in that direction. The tarp and bassinet sit undisturbed, so she leaves the kid as it is and scrambles up some boxes for the rafters.

From there she could hid and observe, only she never makes it.

Blaster fire hitting the wall next to her makes her freeze, and a growl turns her around.

"You!" the humanoid a few feet below jabs a finger at her and then at the ground beside him.

Some of the Nikto know a fair amount of Basic, but most stick to Nikto or what Hanna knows (but can't decipher) is Huttese. This one doesn't have much Basic, apparently.

Funny how a gun and finger can still make themselves universally understood.

"Okay," she nods and drops back down to the floor, hands up in innocence.

What he shouts at her next is garbled and she shakes her head. She doesn't know. Surely he _knows_ she doesn't know.

She can discern that he's alarmed, however. His speech is fast and his movements jerky. He's scared, maybe. Could it be it's not going well out there?

She's not sure how that makes her feel.

The humanoid points at the floor and waves his hand around in a disorganized way. Hanna can guess, then, that he also wants the kid, but she plays ignorant.

"I can't," she raises her hands in traditional confused fashion.

She's backhanded across the face for that and, pup, it sure stings. But he grabs her by the elbow to haul her off so, ultimately, he must buy the act.

He continues to jabber at her while he bustles them down the hallway. Hanna frets over not being able to keep an eye on the baby but is also pleased this brute is moving further from it, as well.

In a small utility room he shoves her round and begins to bind her hands behind her back. Hanna's heart ticks up a notch, for this isn't something any of them have done to her in some time. She recalls being bound and blindfolded when she'd been transported into camp. Were they leaving? What about -

"Okay!" she shouts after a gun is thrust into her neck because she'd instinctively started to struggle. "Okay..."

She stills.

The gun disappears and her wrists are tightly corded together. The yammering behind her increases when the noise dies away outside. As Hanna processes what the change might mean, a dirty wad of rag is shoved into her mouth and tied into place. Through it's not choking her, she feels a bit suffocated and panicky about the intrusion all the same. The rag tastes tangy - _like metal_\- and gross.

No thank you.

A sudden barrage of thunderous noise down the hall sends her fear spiraling back towards the baby, but she's yanked back when she tries to make a break.

She grunts behind her rudimentary gag and tries to wiggle away from the arm that clasps itself around her torso. For her effort she is squeezed too-tightly and forced forward by the large humanoid's long strides.

A shrieking of mental and a thundering thud echos down the hallway, making him freeze.

When strange silence follows, he begins to move them forward again.

Hanna's heart can't find a steady rhythm as she imagines a thousand different things they might find.

What they do find is a mostly intact room ...save for the door that is missing entirely. In the new blast-created hole in the wall, two tall figures stand silhouetted by the sun.

Hanna's new least-favorite Nikto huddles behind her, gun to her neck again, when the two figures both turn blasters in their direction.

Real hero he is.

"The human is one," the droid reports in measured speech.

The Nikto behind her shouts at the pair, who seem to be ignoring him completely. Hanna isn't positive what she is "one of" but whatever it is doesn't make anyone lower a weapon.

Rather, the droid raises a second.

Then a streak of red comes from the other figure. By the time Hanna has the the thought that she is going to die, the body behind her is slumping forward instead.

She has little choice but to fall with it, though she manages to slow herself by dropping to her knees on the way. With a gasp she squirms onto her back to start wiggling from under him, kicking the dead mass in her efforts.

Then a hard, unyielding hand grabs into her hair to "help" her remove herself and wheel around.

"We could have killed her instead," the droid in front of her intones. "I speak Nikto if we needed information..."

Hanna's eyes widen when the clunky robot releases her to survey her with his socketed eyes. She feels like retching behind her gag.

"Please," a modulated voice scoffs, drawing her attention to the masked figure at the droids shoulder. "Who do you think would break first..."

Hanna might be offended in a different situation.

"...agreed," the droid decides. "Girl. Where is the other?"

Hanna glares at the murder-hungry bot, anger and fear spilling out of her in a move that looks much more confident than she actually feels.

A firm hand, through not steel-strong as the droid's, grabs her jaw to twist her gaze around. Hanna is then staring at a metal mask with a somehow familiar, narrow T-shaped visor.

Said visor is tinted to completely obscure whoever lurked beneath it. So well is the person hidden that she might have wondered if she was dealing with another droid if it weren't for the natural heat radiating onto her skin through his thin-fingered glove.

"Where's the old man?" the voice rasped.

_That_ she hadn't expected.

Her brow furrows, and her head attempts to cock to the left but for the firm hold he has on her.

"We know he's here..."

Hanna tries to tell him she does't know, but it comes out muffled and useles.

With a huff she's released, and she spots him pull a small, blinking controller from somewhere on his hip.

"The mark's definitely here..."

"My fob was ruined in the gunfight, but I do detect a fourth life form alive here," the droid concludes.

Hanna knows, then. She's not sure whey they're expecting an old man, but it's obvious what they want.

She straightens taller on he rknees but freezes at a sharp look from the masked one. When she stops moving he continues to study her, then stoops to haul her up by the arm when he's done deciding whatever it is he's decided. He doesn't speak but slowly edges forward, the controller blinking faster and beeping softly as he does.

"There a surprise in there for us?" he hisses through the mask when he comes before the haphazard pile of supplies.

She shakes her head.

Through his mask remains inscrutable, Hanna imagines that he's glaring at her. Then he begins shifting through the clutter while the droid stands sentry.

Remembering that it had been happy to kill her earlier, Hanna finds herself wishing the other one was still standing between them. He certainly isn't chummy either, but at least he had the courtesy to kill the Nikto rather than her.

"Eureka," the controler is beeping very steadily, now, and the man's uncovered the bassinet, which floats up a few feet as soon as he touches it.

"Is this a trap?" the masked one demands. "What happens when I open it?" he readies his gun again, clearly confused.

All Hanna can offer is wide eyes and a vehement shake of ehr head.

The droid moves forward when the masked one reaches for the front button on the bassinet. This obscures Hanna's view. She doesn't want the droid near the baby, but she also isn't in much of a place to protest.

She hears the latches slide open and a beat of silence passes.

"What's this?" the modulated voice of the masked man asks. "The bounty said thirty year old woman and fifty year old ..."

Hanna starts at that particular news.

"Species age differently. Perhaps it could live for centuries" -_this, too, is a shock to the system_. "But we shall never know..."

Hanna watches the droid raise a gun and shouts behind her gag, lurching forward despite herself.

"No. We bring them in alive," the masked one holds out a hand to stop it.

"The orders were quite clear. They both die."

The droid's other hand is suddenly a blaster pointed Hanna's way, drawing her up short. For the second time, the rip of red she expects to end her shoots someone else.

Some_thing_ else.

The droid clangs to the ground.

Hanna has a line of sight to the baby, then. When it's wide eyes land on her, it's ears perk up and it squees happily at her.


	2. Walking Shoes

**Chapter 2. Walking Shoes**

"...what is it?"

Hanna, of course, doesn't have a great answer for that even if she hadn't been gagged. She isn't sure what the kid is ...not species-wise, at any rate. She's never seen one. Neither, it seems, has the masked man.

Why he saved it - _killing his droid friend in the process_ \- well ...that's anyone's guess.

As she watches the masked and armored man slowly reach a finger towards the kid, Hanna wonders if it isn't the eyes. Those over-wide, over-innocent eyes could hook you, that was for sure. There i's something biological in it, almost. Of course, that's assuming that this m an is huma n.

The Niktos had, in large, seemed indifferent to this particular charm.

Further proof they were nearly the worst ever.

Hanna herself remembers that her knee-jerk reaction to the child toddling into her personal space had been to shoo him away.

He would be a nuisance, surely.

Someone must be looking for him.

She didn't have the time.

And then ...well, he'd cocked his little head and cooed and _blinked at her_.

Which all sounds mundane and senseless, but sometimes Hanna swears it knows exactly what it's doing. The little thing doesn't grasp complexities, but surely it can tell that it can hold sway over people with just those wide eyes.

That's before even getting into the rest of it.

The other things it could do...

"It's time to go," the man announces, dashing Hanna's internal thoughts.

She'd love to react to the declaration but there's not much she can do besides stand there. Almost like he'd forgotten this, the man jerks a look around to her as if to check she's still there.

And where, exactly, did he suppose she would go? Even if she wasn't trussed up, they're in the middle of a desert. That was half the problem with the shit hole of a camp.

"Now," he adds, perhaps able to see the annoyance in her face.

She's not arguing. She wants out of this place, too, and she'll decide later if she's actually worse-off for all of this. Out of the frying pan and all that.

She is uncomfortable, however. To display this she juts her chin at him. She can only hope that her visage conveys that she'd be much more helpful if she could talk. How helpful she will actually be remains to be seen, but he doesn't need to know that yet.

He merely surveys her a moment through his narrow visor.

"I enjoy a quiet bounty," he decides.

Hanna glares.

So it's decided. Not helpful at all.

She watches closely as he fiddles with the baby's bassinet, attaching something to the underside of it that she can't quiet make out. However, when he walks her way and the bassinet smoothly follows it's clear it's some sort of electronic leash.

Hanna tries to side step him when he reaches for her, but he just snags her arm and starts untying her hands. The relief she feels upon realizing this is fleeting, for he merely rebinds them in new cuffs in front of her and attaches a very literal leash to that. She grunts unhappily at him.

"Remember the quiet part?" There's little humor in his voice, yet Hanna pictures a sneer on his lips all the same.

Great.

Just great.

The fact that the silent duo and their floating sphere of baby trudge along for hours without seeing anyone or any notable scenery is enough evidence of why it would have been foolish for Hanna to try to make a break for it on her own.

Mr. Armor, however, seems to know right where he's going. Good on him. She, however, had not been born with a compass for a brain.

Nor had she been built with unlimited stamina. The sun is high overhead, the resulting heat oppressive. Maybe she could have kept up in ideal conditions - _a pretty big maybe, given the steady clip at which the man continues on his way _\- but she's currently lagging behind enough that the leash of his is taught and her arms are extended ahead of her. For his part, the man seems perfectly unbothered except to tug every now and then at the cable where he's looped it onto his belt.

He says nothing.

Hanna doesn't bother trying.

The kid peaks out of his bassinet now and then to twist round and look back at her. It's floating along only a couple feet from the man's waist. The little bugger doesn't even have to put any effort into it, just hovers near his new pal.

His new Mandalorian pal.

Hanna had known she recognized the state of his armor as soon as she'd seen him. However, it had taken an hour or so of walking with no real distractions for her it occur to her _why_ it seemed familiar.

Not that she'd ever really met one. Seen one? Sure, at at distance. A safe distance, her mother had assured. Has she heard the lore? Certainly. Only ignorants and bores haven't heard a tale or two.

A Mandalorian bounty hunter, that much is also obvious.

Tall.

Quiet.

Grumpy.

But ...also possibly generous. He'd spared her life, after all.

Still: rude.

It isn't a lot of information to go on, but it's all she has so she'll tuck it all away for now.

An hour or so later _\- it's hard to keep track; maybe they haven't been walking as long as it feels - _Hanna falls into a coughing fit.

The dirty rag in her mouth has gone dry like the rest of her mouth and tickles, now, at the back of her tongue. She yanks her hands reflexively to her mouth to try to fix it, which tugs at the Mandalorian.

She hadn't been so daring as to try to disturb him throughout their trek, but she does it now without thinking. So it shouldn't be much of a surprise when he's back in her space a few moments later. Hanna wants to reel away or maybe give him a shove back because _\- yeah, okay, she can admit it - _he scares her a bit despite being her sort-of-but-probably-not savior.

She forces herself to stay still when she feels his fingers at the back of her head untying her homemade gag. She hardly has time to run her tongue over her now-free lips before a small flask is shoved into her face and water pours into her mouth.

Not that she's sorry for it, exactly, but it is unceremonious. She gulps at it, anyway, though it only last a moment.

"Thanks," she's grateful even though her annoyance has been simmering hotter for hours.

Without acknowledging this, the Mandalorian is shoving the rag back into her face. Hanna clamps her mouth shut and tries to turn away but a large hand catches the back of her head while the other still holds the rag to her mouth. But he's not forcing it in.

Yet.

"Easy or hard way," he offers steadily.

A choice. Interesting.

He doesn't sound particularly riled or perturbed at her actions, perhaps because they're natural, but he doesn't feel yielding either.

Hanna takes a long breath and relaxes, letting her mouth go slack.

The gag is back in place almost immediately, and she expects him to swing right back into motion again.

They stand there for a few minutes instead. The moments pass in a tense sort of way, but the break is appreciated anyway.

Hanna catches the baby's gaze and tries to convey something of a smile in the crinkle of her eyes. It simply stares up at her and offers a few _'merlp' _noises that remind her somewhat of a feline. The kid doesn't seem upset and the noises aren't alarmed, but it's also not the overt happiness she's seen many times. Curiosity, perhaps. A wariness, despite a lack of understanding.

The Mandaloian is stiff and still, save for the way he rotates his gaze to survey the land around them. Hanna's not sure why. They are currently surrounded by tan nothing; surely they'd notice anything or anyone coming.

But she's not much of a traveler these days, so what does she know?

"Keep moving."

He gives her a small shove ahead of him this time, perhaps so he can keep an eye on her for signs of collapse.

She feels a little less pathetic now than when she was at risk of being half-dragged along, but his looming presence behind her isn't exactly comfortable.

By later afternoon _\- or at least the sun has moved in the sky to make her assume it's heading onto evening_ \- they've reached a small canyon of sorts. It provides periodic shade, and that is only an improvement.

Maybe because of the slightly-cooler climate, there are small lizards skittering here and there around rocks and thin vegetation that dares to emerge from the sand. The kid's peeping over the edge of his bassinet to eye them, dark eyes glinting in interest. If Hanna's mouth had been free, she might give the Mandalorian a heads-up that his tiniest bounty is likely to pounce at one of the reptiles - _for fun or for a snack, depending_. As it is, that's the bounty hunter's problem.

The kid's got short legs but is easily excitable and can be surprisingly squirrelly. Hannah doesn't plan to help give chase.

A sharp tug on her bound hands disrupts the humorous visual of the Mandolorian stooped over and darting around to snap his prize back up. The skin of her wrists twinges upon the action so she gives him a quiet glare.

For pride if nothing else.

Only he's not paying her any attention. His gaze is skyward, scanning for something. Hanna looks to the ridges of the canyon above them, as well, but detects nothing with her less-practiced gaze. Even so, the hairs on the back of her neck are standing up from the man's stoic vigilance.

Feeling a jittery sort of panic, she looks to the baby beside them instead. Currently oblivious to the adults, it has taken to hanging half out of his bassinet now that they've stopped moving. He reaches in vain for a nearby lizard ...or perhaps the animal will zoom into his grasp any moment now. Whatever the case, Hannah leans forward to put him back into place more securely at the same moment strong hands shove her shoulders hard.

Already off-balance, she careens forward into the bassinet, knocking it astray as she tumbles into the dirt.

Her hands bite at gritty sand and small stones, which would have been much more pressing were it not for the shouting and clanging behind her. She spins onto her back and her eyes widen upon seeing the Mandalorian mid-fight with two other large figures.

She's not sure she _likes_ her Mandalorian liberator-cum-captor, but at least she's started to feel him out.

These two do not look inviting.

"Go!" The modulated and unmistakable voice shouts as something small and metallic is flung in her direction "Run!"

That snaps through her shock, and Hanna scrambles forward to see what he's given her.

If it's a weapon it is a well-disguised one, bordering on useless.

Panicking and now slightly annoyed, she nonetheless whirls around to do as she'd been told. Her fall had knocked the kid from his bassinet so she rushes to where he lay in quiet shock and takes hold of his robe the best she can with one hand to pick him up.

To her surprise, the bassinet is waiting at her hip when she straightens up. She blinks at it and squeezes the small metal gift tightly when she processes what it must be.

The controller.

Perfect.

She drops the kid into the thing and runs for it, the bassinet just behind.

She makes it several dozen meters before she sees movement in her peripheral and then her feet are swiped from under her.

She sprawls into the sand to see a third figure has dropped from the canyon walls above. A Thrandoshan, she can now see. Tall, stocky, and brandishing a thick staff.

Have they perhaps crossed into jealously-guarded territory?

They stare at each other for a few moments, and then the fiend looks to the bassinet and heads that way. In a fit of protectiveness that makes her braver - _or just more reckless_ \- than she should be, Hanna shoots forward to tackle the beast around his ankles and topple him down to the ground with her.

Hanna has no plan, then, and she can't even shout for help. She'll probably die, she thinks. He'd dropped his staff in surprise, but even if he's unarmed he's bigger and stronger and has probably fought more than one trespasser. She's incredibly out-matched, though her current flush of adrenaline doesn't allow her to worry on it deeply.

As she'd been expecting the worst, Hanna's surprised to just be tossed aside. Not kindly, of course, but not also not with more force than necessary. No abuse beyond the obvious manhandling.

The Thrandoshan climbs back to his feet and heads straight toward the baby again.

_He wants it. _

Understanding implicitly that this isn't a turf dispute, Hanna staggers to her feet and leaps after the creatures. She throws her shoulders into his hips and wraps her fingers awkwardly into his belt to wrench at him while she drops her weight. He stumbles to his knees and throws a fist backwards at her, but the move doesn't do much damage at their current angles.

Pleased, Hanna balls her hands together and aims a blow at the brute's back. His spine is hard and she wonders if she hurt herself more than him, for he barely grunts. Indeed, she's nearly positive she hears it chuckle at her.

Scared, angry, and - _okay, yeah_ \- a little offended, Hanna does the only thing she sees left to her to do in this state. She springs up slightly and loops her bound hands around the Thrandoshan's neck.

He growls, grabs at her wrists, and stands. Hanna clamps her legs as sightly as she can around his torso from behind so that when he tugs on her arms she doesn't budge much. She pulls her hands as taught as possible to choke him with her handcuffs and tightens every muscle she can manage in order not to be dislodged.

"Mmmgh," she grunts around her gag when the Thrandoshan trips a few steps, shoving her backwards against the canyon wall. "Nmmph!" her shout is muffled when he does it again with actual purpose.

She loosens her hold unintentionally and the brute takes advantage, heaving her over his shoulder to toss her away once again. Sand flies, but when it settles she sees him coming for her instead of the baby, this time.

He's mad.

Which is scary even though it had essentially been her intention to distract him.

Hanna scoots backwards along the sand as best she can, but the thug finally notices her leash for what it is and stomps a foot onto it where it's dragging along the ground. When he bends to grab it, he makes a sneering show about reeling her back toward him.

He's only a foot or so away when he freezes with a soft cry and then quickly bursts into shards of ..._nothing_.

Hanna looks around wildly only to see the Mandalorian practically where she'd left him with a rifle pointed in her direction.

Quite the weapon.

Fascinating.

Well. Mostly terrifying.

"Mm!" she lifts a hand to point a finger at the Thrandoshan lurching up from his back near the Mandalorian.

But before she's finishes the gesture the Mandalorian reveals his blaster and shoots his enemy in the head. Once the humanoid creature slumps to the ground everything is silence save for Hanna's labored breathing.

She can't quite think straight. Her brain isn't fully comprehending that the threat is gone. Not with the way he'd just _disintegrated_.

Unnatural.

Then again, her life hasn't been simple in a while now.

Which reminds her.

Hanna shoves herself to her feet a little unsteadily and takes the few remaining steps to the bassinet. The baby's sitting there in the middle of it like he doesn't have a care in the world.

To be honest, it's adorable and maddening all in one.

Hanna reaches for it like she wants to reassure herself it really is okay, and then feels foolish. She curls her fingers around the rim of the bassinet instead and lets herself wonder what the Thrandoshan had intended to do.

Steal it like the Mandalorian?

Kill it like the now-defunct droid?

Then her, too. Probably? Maybe. Until the end there, the goon hadn't seemed to want to seriously hurt her. Maybe he wanted to bring them both in, then.

A shiver shakes down her spine at the thought.

She starts when the Mandalorian makes his presence known, brushing his arm against hers in an effort to peer down and see to the baby's wellbeing.

Hanna pulls back to let him look his fill, and focuses instead on calming down. She's still breathing hard and her body's humming with leftover adrenaline for the moment. Is she panicking? She's not sure. Is she relaxing into the relative safety of the moment? No, definitely not. Not yet.

Not even a little bit.

Hanna starts again when a hand comes towards her, and she swats it away instinctually. The Mandalorian, being the only one left around besides a bitsy child, cocks his helmeted head at her in a way that seems to suggest he isn't impressed.

And yet he stays still for a beat or two before proceeding to reach past her face and start working at the rope holding her gag in place. He lets it fall away completely.

"Don't think I don't have another one of my own," he adds to sort of ruin the moment of triumph for her. "I still don't want to hear whining."

She believes him. Point taken.

She just nods rather than speak given that she's just been told that there are more muzzles close at hand. She raises her hands absentmindedly to rub at the corners of her mouth. They're not bleeding but are sore with chaffing all the same.

Her wrists even more so, which she takes sharp note of when the Mandalorian takes hold of his leash next.

_That_ hadn't been used against her or anything. Thanks for nothing, pal.

'_Well, nothing besides goodbye-ing that pesky Thrandoshan...'_

She says none of this, just watches silently as he undoes the cuffs and pulls them from tender wrists. Hannah's lip curls a little to look at them, raw and now fairly scratched up from all the action.

A flash of the charging Thrandoshan crosses her mind and she reminders herself that she could be in a much worse state.

"...thank you."

His chin just barely ticks and he looks away when the child coos at them. Hanna turns as well, watching the little tyke cock his head from side to side as he looked from one of them to the other.

"What's he want?" the Mandalorian's speech was steady even though Hanna still hasn't calmed herself yet.

She wishes she had an answer so as to keep the man in an as amenable a mood as possible, but she's not sure of the child one hundred percent of the time.

"I don't know. He doesn't talk," she admits, rubbing very carefully at her wrists. "And I'm only half convinced he knows what's said to him ... ...but didn't you say he's **fifty**?"

The Mandalorian says nothing, indicating that the information highway is going to be a one-way sort of route.

"Okay..."

"The tether," his gloved hand appears between them, and Hanna only stares at it a moment. "For the kid," he emphasizes.

Oh.

Right.

That.

Hanna casts her gaze at the sand that has resettled all around them.

"I must've dropped it..." she continues to survey the area.

The Mandalorian does not look moved when she twists her gaze back up to him.

"I'd hate to have to search you," he warns lowly.

Yeah that would be a very swift end to this little accord they seemed to have reached.

Hanna plunges a hand into the slim utility pants she wears these days and pulls the small metal bar out. The man has knowingly left his palm out and waiting, so she drops it into his hand without further comment.

And he doesn't comment, either, when he plucks it up and replaces it into one of his gauntlets. Hanna finds that curious, that she's not getting told-off or threatened with handcuffs again. It seems that he humors natural attempts at defiance so long as they don't actually get out of hand or hold him up.

Which is interesting. Because a girl's gotta try, right?

She glances at the kid and suddenly feels like she should be trying harder. To make this difficult. To run. To bargain. Something.

Anything.

But what does a seasoned bounty hunger care for their weird little situation? What does she have to bargain with, really? And the problem remains here: where would she go right now?

No she'll have to bide her time and hope.

Not that hope's gotten her a whole hell of a lot lately.

She licks at her lip as she ponders the situation and a flask is thrust at her chest a moment later.

"...thanks."

The Mandalorian makes a sound that might be a scoff as she raises it to her lips.

Like it's her fault she needs to be hydrated?

She hadn't actually planned on an adventure today, thank you.

When darkness starts to truly come on, the Mandalorian brings them to a stop near a small outcrop of rocks. Hanna, who'd begun to fear a trek straight through the night, sighs in relief when she can finally sit and rest. Her back has been soundly abused and she can feel it; has been able to since shortly after they set-out again.

Not to mention she has sand everywhere after falling all around in it earlier.

It's been a special kind of day.

To say the absolute least.

It's even more of a relief that the Mandalorian is able to start a fire with some unknown material from a pouch on his hip. It burns slowly but brightly and, most importantly, warmly to ward of the night's chill.

Mr. Mandalorian might be all set for the cold in his layers and armor but Hanna's not so blessed. Neither is the little guy.

"Come on," Hanna stops his pursuit after a lingering wisp of smoke and moves him to settle closer to the fire.

She'd plucked his small blanket out of his bassinet to place over his robe and lap, too. She doesn't know how he regulates his body temperature; she's never had to wonder, having always had some kind of shelter previous to this.

Once she finally gets him to stop fussing around, a small packet soars over the fire and lands near her knee. She copies the Mandalorian's knack for few words and opens it without asking. She shakes some of the contents into her hand and finds oats, legumes, and some small chunks of dried fruit.

Curious, she offers the selection to the child. He has traditionally been easy to feed, willingly trying most things. He prefers meats - _raw - _but will nibble a bit of anything. Plus he has also always happy to do his own hunting of small reptiles and bugs that were large enough to catch his interest.

Indeed, he chirps and studies her offerings with keen interest. He selects and bites down on a randomly chosen nut; then he stops and licks at it before dropping it back into her palm. Some other sort of bean gets similar treatment before he picks up a dried pink fruit between his small claws.

This is sniffed, licked, and summarily discarded.

A few oats get nibbled but ultimately ignored, as well.

Then he finds some sort of large seed that smells to his liking. After he pops it into his mouth and crunches in, however, he opens his mouth right back up and lets it all fall out.

Hanna retracts her hand in time not to get spat on but chuckles all the same.

"Fine. Starve," the Mandalorian offers only this as alternative.

Hanna doesn't feel too worried. If history is an indictor of how things will play out, he will come around when he's actually hungry and choke down something boring. Who knows what all he'd found that morning to eat, and he hadn't exactly been exerting himself today.

So she starts picking through some of the unknown mix to see how it all tastes. Now and then she offers a bit to the mini meal diva, who will take a sniff and then pass it up.

"I guess he won't say it, but thanks..."

"Mmhmm..." Hanna's impressed to get any sort of reaction to her gratitude this time around but doesn't voice it.

Small wins can be private.

She watches as he pokes around his belongings. She can't help but wonder if _he's_ going to eat. Legend _-or rumor, if you like to distinguish between the two_ \- had it that Mandalorians did not take off their helmets come hell or high water. It seems unlikely to her that they **literally** never take them off, but she wonders if he will pass up a meal because of company. Or would he wander away to eat? Demand she turn around?

For now he procures whatever it had been he was looking for and then twists his arm to study the side of his bicep where he'd been steadily bleeding earlier. He'd ignored it completely and so Hanna had, too. Besides, it is't as though he'd asked if **she** was alright; he'd simply taken her health as fact since she was alive and standing.

His wound had clotted up by now, but she watches as he peels some torn fabric from the dried blood and then begins to prod at it with some sort of tool that sizzles and zaps a bit. When she catches the smell of burning she realizes he must have some sort of cauterizing tool to speed up the healing.

Gross.

Also sort of badass.

Mostly disgusting, though.

And yet ...he'd saved her there in the end, right? He was ultimately a captor, but what he'd done counted for something, right?

"Do you need help?" she listens to him sigh, grunt, and pause a few more times before finally offering.

He doesn't seem to be able to easily reach, and it's not as though she's useless. She probably can't kill him with that thing, anyway; she can be trusted.

Although maybe it will sort of feel good to cause him a little pain even if it's helpful pain.

**Sick**.

But true.

"No," he shatters all of those thoughts with his answer.

"Are you sure; I can-"

"No!" he barks more harshly this time.

And that's that.

"No," Hanna herself is hissing a few moments later when the kid gets up and takes a few steps with his eyes on the Mandalorian.

She would rather him go chase a cringe-worthy desert spider than approach the man right now as he continues to prod himself with his mini soldering iron or what-the-kriff-ever.

He doesn't **need** to be an ass.

She was just offering to help. Which, by all rights, she doesn't have to feel obligated to do. He's the one who'd bound her up and dragged her across the desert.

Okay, not really dragged.

And, yeah, in one light he had sort of liberated her and her smallest friend.

And then he'd saved her from attack. That had definitely happened.

Though she had held her own there for a long enough time that she is decidedly proud of herself...

Point is, he's a dick.

There it is.

He's a grumpy masked man and, really, it's no wonder he was out here traveling alone.

_'And I'm a petty wanderer whose current best friend is a fifty year old baby_,' she grades herself in comparison.

Yeah she needs some sleep.

"Stop it," she mutters and pulls the kid back again when he makes to round the small fire.

This time she plunks him down in the hollow of her crossed legs. She knows that he can easily climb out if he decides that he wants to, but the way he turns his little face up to her makes it seem like he's really stumped and displeased with her.

She can't help but smile a little.

"I know," she rubs a hand lightly over his fuzzy head before retrieving his small blanket from beside her. "It's not fair," she sympathizes and hands him the blanket, which he kneads in his hands a little before tucking it up under his chin and settling himself against her knee a bit more.

When Hanna looks up from him, the Mandalorian is facing her. She can't know exactly where his eyes are at, but it feels like they're boring straight into hers.

"Am I allowed to ask questions?" she breaks the quiet so that she can pretend she didn't say something personal.

To the kid, obviously, but in front of the Mandalorian all the same.

He does not dane to give her explicit leave, but he also doesn't tell her to shut up. Over the past many months of living under stoic and disinterested - _if effective_ \- guard, Hanna has learned to take things like that as good as permission.

"What kind of gun vaporizes people?"

His head does cock at this one.

"**That's** what you're asking?" he's so far kept emotion out of most of his words but sounds distinctly surprised, now.

"Well," Hanna feels only slightly embarrassed and so sticks with truth. "I would love to ask where you're taking us, but I didn't think you'd say."

His chin straightens out so that he can stare her down a little longer. Long enough that Hanna wonders if she'd committed a faux pas despite her intentions to ask something he'd actually respond to. She doesn't know all the lore, after all. Are weapons secrets?

"It's a specially made disrupter rifle," he answers after some time to think her over.

He must not deem her to be a threat with the information.

And rightly so, seeing as this doesn't mean a whole lot to her.

"...I've never seen one before."

"I would imagine not. They aren't exactly legal..."

Hanna imagines there's a smirk beneath his mask, now, and grins as she settles herself against the semi-smooth rock behind her. She winces as she does but attempts to glide straight past it.

"I guess I can see why ... ...it doesn't really leave room for error, right?" she rolls her shoulder a little to try to get comfortable and slowly eases her head back to feel around and find a smooth-ish place to rest it.

"No. It doesn't."

That was some cocky talk right there.

Hannah doesn't call it out since she hasn't yet seen anything to refute him being a bit puffed-up about his weapons prowess. If he wasn't all he thought he was with his gun, he might've missed and vaporized her instead.

Now there's a disturbing thought. Disintigrated dust of her the only thing left to blow around the desert forever.

"... ...was that droid back there your friend?" this is much nosier but thinking about his weapons had reminded her of his droid clunking to the ground.

"Droids aren't my friends."

"Temporary compatriot?" she tries again.

"...barely."

"I don't like armed droids either," she grasps at the common ground she's recognized. "My dad was killed in the Clone Wars..."

No comment.

Fair. She hadn't asked a question, after all.

She considers what question is next and bites lightly at her thumbnail while she thinks.

"... ...how much further to we have to travel?"

Silence for a beat.

"You'd have to be much more specific," he sets bounds for this answer.

Is it broaching on what he considers whining to start asking details about the bounty? Asking where they're going might be too much.

"...how much further are we walking?"

He scrutinizes her but must not mind it.

"Not far," he rasps his answer.

She nods slowly and glances down at her lap. The kid's nestled in and looks cozier than she feels, though his eyes are still open and watching. Her mouth tilts up when he looks to her because she can't help it, but she doesn't feel it in her heart. She wants very much to help take care of him, but she's not sure what that looks like anymore.

"... ...those Thrandoshans weren't random, where they?"

"No," he doesn't seem to mind answering that despite how close she's getting.

"Yeah..." Hanna chews on her lip lightly.

She'd requested to ask questions and would certainly still like to break the heavy quiet of the night, but she suddenly doesn't have much to say.

"Well ...your turn," she tries to make him lift the silence instead.

He probably already knows plenty about her, anyway.

"I don't ask questions," he drops the ball she's passed.

Well then.

But that wasn't **exactly** true. He'd asked what the kid was; he'd asked what he wanted. The Mandalorian had been curious.

She doesn't think he'd appreciate that thrown in his face, however.

"Why not? You must see all sorts of things..."

"I do," he confirms gruffly and ignores her all at once.

She suddenly wishes that he would say more about that. Tell some fanciful story about the places he'd gone or the people he'd met. Distract her, in other words.

She is entirely unsurprised when he does nothing of the sort.

Instead she's distracted by the baby's fingers crawling over her leg to latch onto one of her fingers so he could give it a tug. She let him pull it in towards himself and place her palm against his tummy. For warmth, she thinks. She makes an attempt to un-bunch his blanket in order to cover him properly, but he clenches his claws onto the fabric and does not let go.

Hanna gives in and rubs his stomach for him instead.

It clearly pleases him for he scoots down a little further and begins to drift off. He is surely warmer than Hanna, but she'll survive. Anyway, she's been given a very clear impression of the Mandalorian's thoughts on whining.

And since she is sure said man will not fulfill her silent wish of a story, she rests her eyes and imagines her own daring adventure.

By the time she actually starts to drift off, her mind has envisioned vaporizing all sort of creatures of her own... ...


	3. Sharing is (not) caring

_Welcome back . Here's Chapter three._  
_Thanks for he reviews; it's good to see people are enjoying! :]_

**Chapter 3: Sharing is (not) caring**

Hanna's day is ...well, it's going.

Sure she's jogging across the desert all alone _\- which has been a longtime worst nightmare_ \- but that's just a small hiccup.

Or a large hiccup.

She's not sure yet.

She's just trying not to panic.

.

She had been traveling with yesterday's same merry band of misfits for most of the day. A quiet journey but at least not a stark lonely one. They had even reached the Mandalorian's ship, but upon cresting the last hill to reach it he had shoved her to the ground. He'd hunkered down, too, and spied on the sight before them through the scope of his rifle.

Even without a magnifier Hanna could see the little creatures below them making a mess of his ship.

She had seen Jawas before when they stopped by the encampment trying to trade, but she'd never spotted them in action like that as they dismantled the Mandalorian's transport and loaded the pieces into their own. Without hesitation, the Mandalorian had vaporized a few of the scrappers for daring to cross him.

Then he'd charged in, making her wonder if he understood just how many Jawas traveled together in that behemoth of a sand crawler.

When he began chasing the vehicle on foot, she knew for sure that he'd lost his mind in the desert heat. Maybe he never had eaten the night before and had subsequently gone delirious.

.

Sadly, the man is still her only hope of getting off the planet right now. Plus the kid hadn't leapt from the bassinet, so he is also trailing the rolling hunk of rusted metal.

Which means that Hanna is now in pursuit.

It is not sane by any means, but it still feels better than standing alone next to a stripped space cruiser.

.

She is lagging far behind since she had hesitated and hemmed and hawed over whether to stay or go. Lucky for her the sand crawler is by no means a subtle machine. It's left tracks that aren't going to be covered up any time soon.

After she's given chase for some distance she begins to encounter debris, which slows her so that she could inspect some of it. It all looks like junk but nothing like distinct ship parts. In other words, nothing to suggest the Jawas had specifically been trying to give the Mandalorian his parts back.

The fool.

Had he really thought he would intimidate a whole clan of the things? Certainly not defeat them.

Hubris.

.

Hanna can't help but feel that he must have done a lot of things to grow that level of self-assurance.

It's a little unsettling, truth be told.

.

"Kriff..."

Hanna spots the white bassinet hovering against the horizon and ignores the junk around her to put on speed and race his way. It's not moving further away, and if he's not moving it doesn't bode well.

Though she shouldn't assume anything...

But as she draws near she can see the Mandalorian sprawled spread-eagle and unmoving a few feet from the kid.

.

Then she can't help but be momentarily certain that she and the baby are going to waste away in the desert. Slowly and painfully.

.

She grabs the bassinet first to twist it around and stare down at the intact baby.

He's fine.

"Hi," she has to drink it in for a moment and be grateful he hadn't been hit by all the projectiles of junk she'd ran past or hopped over.

He _'merps' _back at her, and she chooses to believe it means he's happy to see her, too.

.

Hanna turns towards the downed Mandalorian more slowly. He has yet to move, and she's not sure if he's breathing. With the armor and cloak tussled, it's hard to tell.

"Cross your fingers, buddy..."

She's not actual sure the kid physically can cross his stubby fingers, but sometimes it's just the thought that counts. She need good juju in the air as she eases closer and then squats down next to the fallen man. Despite being unconscious, she's still oddly reticent to touch him.

Still.

"You in one piece?" she asks casually and nudges his shoulder.

Nothing.

"...please be in one piece," she gives his torso more of a shake.

Nothing.

What if he fell and broke his back? They're all as good as dead, then. What if he has a head injury? Is she allowed to take his helmet off to check? Surely there's some kind of clause or exception to the usual rules. Then again, if he does have a serious injury what does she think she can do about it?

.

Now that she's up close and personal she can tell that he does seem to be breathing, so at least that's something.

Not a lot, but definitely something.

"Come on..." she taps at his temple a few times to try to wake him. "C'mon, c'mon..."

How long ago had he fallen here, anyway?

And were they safe here?

Would the Jawas come back? She understands them to be more sneaky and mysterious than tactical or aggressive, but her experience is minimal so she doesn't really know that for sure.

Hanna eyes the Mandalorian up and down and knows she won't be able to drag him far. It would take her ages to get him back to the relative safety of the remnants of his ship. It might not actually be safe there at all, but at least it would provide some cover and semblance of security.

.

Once she envisions the sand crawler returning to flatten them under it's tracks, she decides haste in any form is a good idea.

She taps his visor sharply a few more times and holds her breath hopefully.

Zilch.

"Fine..."

She needs to get an idea of the state of him.

That's all there is to it.

She's just ...going have to do it. Dying men don't get to pick how they got saved, right? Beggars trying to be choosers and all that.

Ignoring the twist of anxiety, Hannah reaches her hand past the chin of his angled helmet in order to feel how to lift it off.

.

Her fingers just skim over the smooth steel when her wrist is caught in a crushing grip.

"Holy stars!" she reels back and the Mandalorian sits up to follow her as she does. "You're awake!"

Despite the spike of fear he'd given her, Hanna feels a cool rush of relief and her chest loosens somewhat. They are still without a ship, sure, but she's not stranded as the only speaking adult capable of complex decision-making.

That much feels very good.

"Disappointed?" he hisses in her direction and absolutely doesn't give up his grip on her.

Quite the contrary, his fingers tighten around her offending wrist.

Uncomfortably so.

"What?" she tries in vain to twist her already-abused wrist free. "No," she starts pushing at his hold with her free hand, too.

A small scoff escapes his mask.

"Oh come off it," she snaps and swears the bones of her wrist are grinding together. "I was trying to help you!"

If his horizontal eyepiece could narrow any further, it probably would. The tension sizzling all around the Mandalorian screams that he doesn't believe her for a second.

He does seem to remember what the kriff had been going on, however, and jerks to look around. He follows the tracks of the sand crawler in the direction it had been going and growls once his gaze reaches the empty horizon at the next hill.

Hanna's wrist throbs and she gives his thigh a small kick. It's the kind of thing that runs the risk of tempting him to just snap her arm altogether, but while his anger is rerouted at the Jawas it seems safe.

Well, safe-ish.

He looks down at his thigh, then her wrist in his hand, and then tosses the appendage away with another huff.

She examines the skin moodily and knows her wrist will be bruising further.

"What do you think? That I _want_ to be stranded out here alone? That I wanted to just run around with your helmet?" she gripes.

"Don't ever touch me," he bosses and thrusts a finger at it.

"Yeah, I got that," Hanna snaps, though she ought to watch herself and she knows it.

She focuses on her arm instead and rotates her hand around to assure herself that bruises are the worst of her troubles.

.

The Mandalorian, meanwhile, continues to show up anyone who's ever complained about being tired and hauls himself to his feet with minimal grunting. He dusts himself off some and pats himself down systematically. At first Hanna thinks this is to assess himself for noteworthy injury. Then she notices he fiddles here and there and realizes he's actually checking his belongings.

Unnatural.

"Stop that - it's not broken," he orders after he finishes with himself and takes stock of her. Let's go..."

He offers Hanna a hand, which she just stares at for a moment. His order never to touch him is fresh in her ears, so she determines that this is a trick and stands up under her own steam.

.

Then they're both standing staring down the path of debris the Jawas had left during their campaign to get rid of the Mandalorian.

"You're an idiot"

The Mandalorian cuts her a sharp look, but Hanna means it. Now that she has a chance to stop and look at the powerful, messy wake that's been made here, he truly had been reckless. He seems like a very calculated and deliberate person, but his seek-and-destroy mentality had been way off on this one.

"Start walking"

Yeah, yeah.

What else would they do next?

.

While the Mandalorian inspects what is actually left of his bereft ship, Hanna encourages the kid to stretch his legs. Short they may be, but he's used to a little more freedom to roam that he's had lately.

She, on the other hand, is used to less.

Hanna plunks herself down on a large crate that had been abandoned in the sand and watches the kid toddle from piece of scrap to piece of scrap to inspect. Some things he picks up, other things he only taps or scratches at. He climbs the things that are big enough, and none of it is so large that it spurs Hanna to interfere.

She's glad to hear his happy noises as he explores.

Meanwhile, she can hear an occasional clunk or curse from behind her on the ship. It would almost be funny if it weren't so damn un-funny.

She is still glad that the kid and her aren't on their own, but the relief of that has already worn thin. They are still in an incredibly hopeless position at the moment. Maybe some small part of her had let herself be convinced that the Mandalorian had some sort of back-up plan; if anyone would be ready for an emergency it should be a world-jumping bounty hunter, right?

Wrong.

He's pissed.

That tells her two things.

One. To stay out of his way until told otherwise.

Two. There is no back-up plan. Leastwise, no back-up plan that does't i nvolve items the Jawas had thieved.

.

"Come on," the Mandalorian vaguely notifies once his inspection is completed and he comes stomping off the ship.

"Where are we going?" Hanna hops to her feet in surprise.

"That way," he points East.

Or maybe North. She's very turned around.

"Is there a village?"

All she gets is a stare, but she doesn't see why this is an overstep.

"Get the kid," is all the more he seems to want to say.

"Yeah boss," Hanna mutters and trudges through the sand to do as he said.

There's no chasing needed. The kid is seated on an upturned chunk of grating, his legs swinging over the edge and a small wing sticking out of his mouth as he chews. She had seen him catch a fuzzy moth earlier, and she plants her hands on her hips now.

It doesn't usually take him long to gobble up a catch. She knows what her mother would have called this: playing with one's food.

"Finish that," she nods him along.

With an unnecessarily noisy _'twpp,' _he sucks the thin wing down and smiles happily at her.

"Yuck it up now, buddy," she advises and scoops him up with little sigh. "Time to get serious..."

"Don't," the Mandalorian orders quietly once she reaches him and sets the kid in his waiting bassinet.

"What?"

"Just don't with me right now," his voice is still low, still steady, but he's not having it.

Okay. No comments. No questions. No jokes.

Sure, pal.

Her silent reception earns her a full canteen he must have retrieved off of the ship. It has a long, thin strap, which she loops over her shoulders gladly.

She will stay very quiet if there are gifts involved.

.

Wondering if food next depends on it, Hanna keeps mum throughout the evening. They take a few breaks. They're brief but allow the kid to putter around a little more. He's finally getting bored with so much time regulated to his bassinet, and he's fussier than average. Restless despite Hannah's efforts.

If the Mandalorian is phased by it he doesn't show it. He watches everything very closely but doesn't snap at the kid trying to escape his bassinet or lose patience with his increased chirping or babbling.

Or maybe he is. For all Hanna knows the man is constantly making faces at the baby and glaring any time he reaches over to push him back safely into the basinet's confines.

He **seems** patient, at any rate. Just not so patient that Hanna dares to test him with questions. She understands that, on the whole, she is less endearing than a cooing baby.

.

Hanna perks up when she sees a fire in the distance.

About an hour previously, the Mandalorian had offered his first bit of gossip for the afternoon, stating only that they would "get there soon."

Apparently he'd staked-out the planet well before coming to fetch his bounty. Or perhaps he had been here before, though she can only assume it had been for business rather than leisure because, well, look at the place.

.

Based on the size of the fires and the lack of other lights, Hanna guesses that the answer to her earlier question was "no." Not a village. A camp, most probably. Something much smaller than where she and the kid had come from.

It takes some time of trekking nearer to notice they aren't making a straight line for it. They're angled almost to hedge past.

Hanna squints around in the waning light when she starts to piece this together.

"Aren't -"

"No," she doesn't even get to ask.

He directs them away a bit further still now that she's cottoned on. Something about the subterfuge of it all keeps her from pressing the issue.

.

Until they hear shouting and calls for them to stop.

They'd been spotted.

"Cover up the kid," Hanna is instructed once the Mandalorian diverts them towards the others as if he hadn't been skipping them for any purpose at all.

Without question, she hits the button that slides the shutters of the bassinet shut. Confused black eyes blink at her for her efforts, but he doesn't make a peep.

A few men jog out to meet them and welcome them for the night. They are jovial enough, though the Mandalorian sticks to his habit of few words. He offers no explanation of who they are or why they're traveling in the area. He also turns down the offer of food or water.

"How about you? You must want something," one of the men opts to ignore the Mandalorian completely. "S'matter? Don't you answer for yourself?" he frowns between Hanna and the Mandalorian when she hesitates.

"We're fine. Like he said," Hanna promises and smiles for good measure. "Just passing."

"Nothing that way," another man pipes in.

"At least nothing that's safe in the dark. Crazy old coot East of here guards his farm with blurrgs!" the little group chuckles at this thought. "As if they can be domesticated," he finishes. "So why don't you stay? Avoid any accidents."

A couple others have made their way out - _Miralans if the markings on their faces are anything to go by in this light_ \- and the Mandalorian shifts beside Hanna. His sigh is barely audible through his mask and over the shuffling boots through the dirt, but Hanna notes it. Wonders if he's going to give-in and camp here for the night just to save having to continue the conversation.

"What've we got, Pim?"

"Nomads, I guess. Heading East..."

"Blurrgs that way..."

"S'what I said!" this Pim chuckles.

"I'm aware of the blurrg," the Mandalorian finally states carelessly. "I'm not concerned."

There's a few scoffs in the group for that.

"You new here?"

"Must be. We've never seen a Mandalorian in these parts ..." one of the Miralans states, pulling the armored man's attention soundly. "I haven't in years, and that was back in Corellia..."

"Then we're in the presence of a legend," Pim laughs heartily. "Come join us, legend."

"We'll pass."

Pim's jaw goes tight under his thick scruff.

"So he does speak for you?"

Hanna's willing to allow it. She has a bad feeling and has to consciously keep herself from twisting to check on the bassinet and draw attention to it.

"Hmm..."

She doesn't need to be a seasoned bounty hunter to note the way the group of men has started to spread themselves out. To distance themselves from each other. The trio aren't actually surrounded, but the intentions are clear enough.

"We're going," the Mandalorian announces and nudges Hanna in the direction he intends to go, then nudges the hovering sphere to get it following, too.

"Well, in that case ...if you're not going to join-up for the night, I'm sure you understand we'll be helping ourselves to some of your supplies," Pim sighs as though this is a real burden. "Not a whole lot to go around out here, you know..."

"That's not going to happen"

"No? You sure about that?" Pim continues to chortle.

"By the looks of you ...you gotta have something good on ya..." another man assesses the strapped-up man.

"I'm sure," the Mandalorian answers without further hesitation.

Apparently confident in numbers the band doesn't seem put-off by the steel in his voice. Whereas Hanna stiffens even though he isn't talking to her.

"Walk"

Hanna understands why, armed as he is, the Mandalorian might be confident in stomping straight through a crowd, but she's much less cocksure.

She has her marching order, however, so she goes.

.

Though she pulls up short after several steps when someone steps directly in her path.

"Keep walking"

She steps to the side but the man a couple feet ahead mirrors her.

"Don't be like that..." he's grinning stupidly.

Hanna goes for another side-step, but a second man moves in to close her off as well. It feels like they've done this enough to be practiced, have pincered other travelers into handing over whatever it is they want.

Her heart leaps to the base of her throat as she looks between the two. She knows she doesn't want to take her eyes off of them, but she ticks her chin toward her shoulder to let the Mandalorian behind her know she needs a hint of what to do next.

"We can work something out," Pim's beside them again and his hand comes to rest atop the bassinet as he feigns thoughtfulness.

For this he finds a blaster trained on him.

Almost, but not quite, as quickly a few of Pim's gang have their weapons drawn, too.

"Everybody relax..."

Hanna's loathe to give him any credit whatsoever, but she has to admire that Pim does sound very calm. What she can see of his face in the low light seems placid, as well.

Very cocky.

But it's further evidence that they've been down this road before. By virtue of still standing here, he's clearly always come out on top.

"I won't look at your valuables," he raises a hand innocently from the thankfully-silent bassinet. "There's other deals worth making..."

He lets that hang in the air. Hanna's not _positive_ if his eyes dart in her direction, but she thinks they do. She could've imagined it.

Maybe.

"Say more," the Mandalorian doesn't lower his gun yet.

No. Really. Don't say anything.

"You coming back this way?" Pim inquires.

Hanna certainly wouldn't advise it.

"Maybe"

Oh.

"Then why let anyone slow you down? We'll take the girl off your hands a while."

And.

Well.

There it is.

.

Hanna shivers despite the lingering heat, and the desert seems more quiet than ever.

"She doesn't slow me down," the Mandalorian counters.

Nice of him to say so.

"C'mon, friend," Pim sighs dramatically. "It's hard to find company out here, you understand ...and it's a sweet deal all around. Just asking you to share; it's not even a real trade..."

Hanna's not convinced she's breathing except that she hasn't fallen down dead yet. She can't feel the movement of her chest. She just hears his voice: _sweet deal_.

Sweet deal.

Sweet deal?

She can't meet anyone's eye, though she does have half a mind to round on the Mandalorian. Will he do it? Save himself this fight and keep the baby under wraps? The droid had been happy to kill them both, so it doesn't seem like he has to bring her back in any particular state...

She thinks she might throw up.

Does _he_ think it's a pretty sweet deal?

_Does he?_

"I don't share."

.

Hanna does snap her gaze to the Mandalorian once he finally speaks.

He doesn't move, of course.

.

"Well, then. I guess we don't either friend," Pim snorts. We'll take it all, won't we b-"

Rather than hear him out, the Mandalorian shoots him in the gut and he falls with a shout.

A different blaster shot pings off of his armor a moment later, and another whizzes just by Hanna's shoulder before she ducks down. A quick succession of shots fire from nearby, and then a calamitous bang makes Hanna jump. She looks up to find a larger fire rolling upward from the camp, now, amidst shouts.

A couple of the gang near them abandon the moment to run for camp, and Hanna snatches the bassinet as they get jostled.

"Up," a hand grabs at the back of her shirt.

She throws an elbow at it angrily.

"It's me. Move," - of course she knows the voice. "Go while they're distracted..."

She finds herself pulled and pushed until she has her feet under her and gets moving properly with the bassinet clamped tightly in her arms.

The Mandalorian has his rifle in hand and uses it as a bayonet at a Miralan that turns towards them. He's electrocuted and crumples to the ground.

.

Hanna heads off in the way she'd been pushed. Whether he's deliberately chosen a direction is unclear, but they can correct course later. All that matters is she's going away.

Away is good.

Away anywhere.

Though that is also what she'd thought of the camp, and she didn't exactly having a great time, is she?

.

The Mandalorian hangs back and pops off a shot now and then, surely adding to the chaos they're leaving behind. When Hanna looks back, she can't make out the details of him. He's just a fuzzy dark shape. She doesn't imagine he'd let her and the kid get so far ahead that he couldn't track and correct them, so she continues as quickly as manageable in the night.

The moon here is huge and doesn't allow complete darkness, but she's not exactly dealing with flat, welcoming terrain.

.

"They're not pursuing..."

She slows after the pronouncement and stops to wait up. The Mandalorian's rifle is on his back once again so Hanna supposes he does truly feel confident in his words.

"The kid's good?"

Truthfully Hanna hasn't stopped to check, but she hadn't caught any sounds of distress. When she clicks ope the shutters and moonlight glints lightly off of one of those eyes of his, it is a relief.

As well as a frustration.

She wonder if he could've done something - _anything_. If she'd truly landed in trouble, would he have understood? She voices none of this. She reminds herself he is just a kid.

Just a kid.

And they're all okay

They really are.

.

"Hey!" Hanna gasps and nearly trips over her own feet in her rush to get away from the Mandalorian when his hand skims across her hip towards her -

She squashes the panic when he holds the offending hand up, palm out and fingers spread.

"Back pocket," he points at her with the other hand.

She's still a little wary despite his lack of movement, but she reaches into her right pocket anyway.

Her fingertips find something small and smooth, and she knows what it is before she pulls it out: the electronic tether. He must've passed it off when he was urging her forward earlier.

She hadn't even noticed.

She feels a little foolish for it.

"Right ...here..."

He telegraphs his movement to retrieve it and then quickly slips it back into place on his armor once he has it. He thankfully does't comment on her overreaction.

Which is for the best.

Because it was't an overreaction.

Not really.

She does feel skeevy.

_A sweet deal_.

But he hadn't ... ...well, it wasn't his fault.

.

"We're heading in the right direction," he bumps the bassinet back into motion trusting she will follow.

She does.

"What _is_ a blurrg?" she still feels a little way.

"Big beast. Very territorial. They're native here..."

"And we _are_ heading toward them?"

"Yes"

"...you can't say more than that?"

**Please** keep talking.

"We're fine," he sounds perfectly confident, but he'd also chased a sand cralwer on foot, so ... "He uses electric fencing. Installs it underground..."

"So people stay away?" Hanna surmises.

"They do"

Interesting to know he has a friend here. He certainly could've divulged that sooner. Wouldn't have hurt anyone.

"...you blew that up back there?"

"I did"

"...dumb luck?"

He turns a look at her as they continue to trudge on.

Fine. He's offended. But if he'd just exposit a little more with his answers she wouldn't have to guess.

"No. They had fuel tubs near their bikes ."

Still vague but slightly more helpful.

"How-"

He seems to know her question ahead of her and taps his temple.

"...what's that mean?"

"Built in tech options. Thermal imaging. Night vision..."

"...fancy."

"You might think so."

Fine. Hanna's had enough of conversation, too, then. If he's going to be condescending she'd prefer silence...

.

For a while.

"Look," she finally can't anymore. "Back there ...those men, well ...I'm grateful that you didn't," Hanna sighs because this had sounded perfectly sensible in her head, but she finds she doesn't want to_ say_ it. "What I'm saying is I know it could've gone a very different way..."

Greatest understatement of the parsec, but her meaning is clear.

Indeed, he doesn't ask for clarification. He's just as silent as ever.

"Well," she feels the need to fill the conversation void because it's very personal and he could at least acknowledge her rambling attempts before she feels like a total idiot. "I know I'm just a payday, but still..."

Only then does he stop and twist toward her.

"Uh," she's caught unaware, "not that you would be okay with what they were proposing otherwise..."

He's unreadable, obviously, so she has no clue if she's on the right track.

"Are you done?"

Oh.

Uh.

"Yes," she decides. " I mean ...I just feel the need to say I'm grateful."

He tilts his chin a mere fraction.

It could mean anything.

"Then you're welcome."

He's walking again before his voice is even done sliding through the modulator.

Thank stars!

It's the fullest response she's gotten for gratitude yet and she doesn't ruin it with more chatter. She just hurries to fall back into step with him.

.

When they next see warm lights in the distance, Hanna makes herself ask.

"This is your friend, right?"

"...ally," he corrects. "Yes."

What-the-kriff-ever. Good enough.

She sticks close, for she can see some hulking figures shifting at the edges of her vision. She's still not entirely clear on what the blurrgs are capable of but has determined she doesn't want to find out.

.

The house they approach is fairly small, built sturdy and low. They walk up nice and slow, but the Mandalorian does't call out their arrival.

"I thought you must be dead," a gravely voice greets once someone finally pushes a door open.

"Not yet"

"Hmm ...and you've brought a friend..."

Hanna thinks this ally must know what the Mandalorian is and so assumes he knows this isn't exactly a friendship situation. Even so, the positive acknowledgment feels nice.

"Well bring her on in then..."

He moves away and waves them in. Hanna follows when the Mandalorian falls back to bring up the rear.

"I am Kuiil, and this is my home. You are my guests," he announces perfunctorily .

"Thank you ..I'm Hanna"

"Welcome," Kuiil accepts this and then raises a bushy eyebrows at the Mandalorian, who's ticked his head toward her in aborted surprise. "You didn't know that?"

"We ...haven't been on a first name basis," Hanna answers when the Mandalorian opts not to.

Kuiil tuts.

"He can call you what he likes, but you're _my_ guest. I'll call you Hanna," he announces. "I have spoken," he adds pointedly, like a dare.

Hanna doesn't really get it but smiles.

"Thank you ...it's been a while since I've heard my name."

This is perfectly true, but saying so makes her throat feel thick for a moment.

Kuiil nods in return of her small smile, but he tuts again at this news.

"Come in, come in..."

.

Kuiil, it transpires, takes hosting guests very seriously.

He'd seemed to implicitly understand that the Mandalorian was not gong to be hustled off to clean-up from a long journey, but he bullied Hanna to the back of the home to go ahead and wash up. She wasn't going to turn down the opportunity but she'd tried to draw the line at him giving her clothes a quick cleaning.

_ "There's no need. I c-"_

_ "You are my guest."_

_ "Sure, but-"_

_ "I have spoken," he'd waved her off._

_ Hanna had attempted to appeal to the Mandalorian, but he'd merely shrugged at her in response. _

_ And so she'd learned that when Kull spoke they were to listen._

She isn't sorry, of course. It feels like a godsend to wash after the last few days.

The mere privacy to piss is nice. Just being able to stand behind a wall to think and feel without being under another's gaze. Even at the camp she'd had more of that since the Nikto knew there was nowhere for her to truly get off to.

The part she doesn't necessarily appreciate is the robe she'd been gifted to borrow while her clothes dry in the breeze. It's soft in a worn-in way but it's clearly made for someone of shorter stature. Not that Hanna is overly tall in the first place, but the article hardly reaches her knees. With Pim and all of his implications fresh in her mind, she's reticent to leave the house to join the men talking outside.

_Sweet deal_.

She shivers and sticks to lingering near the windows where she can easily listen-in.

.

Kuiil is insisting they can negotiate with the Jawas. The Mandalorian isn't buying it. The kid hasn't a care while he chases a frog around.

"Are you crazy?" the Mandalorian is griping for he isn't the best guest, it seems.

"You don't know them as I do..."

"I've come across my fair share..."

"Maybe so."

"It _is_ so"

"There is always something they want."

"_Want?_ They're my parts! I'm not paying them for any of it..."

"Bah.." Kuiil throws both hands up in the air to abandon the Mandalorian for the time being and continues tinkering on one of his solar panels.

The Mandalorian had warned him of the band traveling nearby. Kuiil was aware of them and so wasn't overly concerned, but he had recruited the Mandalorian in checking to make sure his fences were all in working order anyway. Just in case.

"The Jawas don't want credits," Hanna enters in the semi-anonymity of the doorway but interjects on Kuiil side anyway.

Kuiil points a tool in her direction silently.

"I'm not interested in trading away anything for what's already mine, either," the Mandalorian spits.

"Then you'll want to get very comfortable here," Kuiill doesn't bother looking up.

The Mandalorian sighs long and audibly.

"We'll leave in the morning. I have spoken."

"Right..." the Mandalorian grumbles. "Hey...spit that out!" he tries to gain ownership of the moment by bossing the baby, who has already half-swallowed his amphibian prey.

He absolutely does not do so. Instead he slurps it down with a self-satisfied wiggle.

The Mandalorian looks to Hanna.

She shrugs a shoulder.

"He's hungry ... ...what?" she chuckles. "I'm not going to explain sanitation to him."

Judging by the slow, deliberate rise and then fall of the Mandalorian's shoulders, he's trying to recenter himself. He must succeed, for he returns to his share of the work.

.

"Do _you_ know what the child is?" Kuiil gives Hanna his attention next.

In her peripheral, she sees the Mandalorian abandon his task once more to look back up and watch this exchange.

"No," she repeats since it is the honest answer. "I found him on accident. Or ...i guess he found me."

"Hmm .. ...where?"

Hanna shifts. She doesn't think it's dangerous information, really ...but she also doesn't necessarily want to be backtraced for any reason.

The Mandalorian - _Mr. I Don't Ask Questions himself_\- is not quashing the topic, which is interesting. Apparently he's fine with soaking-up information as long as he's not the one showing the curiosity.

"...not around here."

I seems rude and she's sorry for that, but if no one else is sharing maybe she doesn't want to, either.

"Fair," Kuiil judges her answer gruffly and nods almost like he approves.

Then he is back to his work.

The Mandalorian continues to stare a few moments, and Hannah stares right back. Wondering if he'll press now that the door is proverbially open.

She wonders if she'll answer if he does.

He does not.

He simply follows Kuiil to the next set of panel control boxes for a maintenance check.

This leaves her with just the kid, but she's used to that.


	4. Deal or no deal

**Chapter 4****: Deal or no deal**

Kuiil?"

"Yes?"

Hanna doesn't want to impose on his goodwill more but can't help it just now. She thinks she's ready for him this time, in any case.

"Do you have a needle and thread?"

"What's the trouble?"

"Nothing serious. My clothes just got a little roughed-up," she waves around the sleeve in her hand. "I was hoping to fix it before wearing it again ..." she gestures to the robe she still wears over her pants.

"Ah...yes. I have everything you need."

"I can always just pull a thread from a hem as long as you have a needle..."

"Nonsense," he's already out of his seat where he'd been mixing a breakfast. "Give it to me..."

"No, no," Hanna squeezes her hands tightly into the fabric.

"But you are my guest. Let m-"

"And I can't impose any further. Please. You're too good of a host," she insists before he can declare his words as final.

He _'harumphs' _and holds up a finger at her to wait before shuffling off.

She's not sure if he's offended and looks to the Mandalorian, giving him a questioning shrug. He shrugs right back and tilts his chin.

"That's more than I've been able to get him to back off..."

"...is that a compliment?" she's not sure but it does feel like a kudos.

He considers.

"Why? Are you fishing for one?"

Hanna ignores this.

.

When Kuiil returns he doesn't try to take over the darning again, but he does usher her straight toward a seat to do her work. It's still a win.

Once he returns to mixing up whatever porridge he wants to serve as breakfast, the babe emerges from under the table to make himself known and sniff at the air experimentally.

"A few more minutes, friend," Kruill takes notice.

"Don't hold your breath," the Mandalorian scoffs. "He's picky..."

He's not in a good mood, really, but in Hanna's humble opinion he's being remarkably patient with Kuiil's instance on feeding them before all else. Maybe he appreciates the kindness of an excellent host, too.

Then again, it wouldn't be smart to piss off the person who knows how to find and deal with the Jawas. He must know that.

Hanna momentarily considers that _she_ ought to thwart the situation. Then she remembers the ease with which the Mandalorian shot Pim and knows better than to get in his way.

"He might like it," she chimes in and scoops the kid up when he starts plucking at Kuiil's pant leg.

She thrusts him in the Mandalorian's direction since she has work to do, and he receives the gift as gracefully as one can when they really have no choice.

He lets the kid shuffle around his lap a bit and doesn't stop him from climbing himself up onto the tabletop. Once there, the kid attempts to scuttle right over to the bowl for closer examination.

"Oh no you don't," the Mandalorian picks him back up and plunks him down at a safe distance.

The kid's next break attempt is towards Hannah.

"She's busy," the Mandalorian tugs him back again.

For this he gets a wide-eyed stare and a few '_merps'_ from the kid, but he remains largely unmoved. So the kid tries to head in Hanna's direction again anyway. This time the Mandalorian simply takes hold of the back of his little robe. He only uses his fingers, but the child is unable to break free. Eventually he gives up and plops his butt down to sit with the smallest huff.

Hanna chuckles and focuses up on her work so she'll be done in time to change and eat before they go. The knees of her pants are something of a mess, too, but they get a more haphazard fixing.

At some point she remembers the wound the Mandalorian had acquired when fighting the Thrandoshans. His sleeve had been torn fairly wide and she thinks to offer to fix it, only when she takes a look at him his sleeve is fine. When had he changed? She's not sure and is oddly disturbed that he got away with this outside of her notice.

.

As the Mandalorian predicted, the kid doesn't end up eating breakfast with them. Indeed, the meal is a little bland, but it is filling . Kuiil tries to explain that that's what matters most, but the kid doesn't stick around for the lesson. He darts for the edge of the table and is only saved a fall because the Mandalorian catches him and delivers him safely to the floor. Then he's free to hunt for his own, more creepy-crawly, breakfast.

The Mandalorian disappears briefly to the back of the house with a bowl, and knowing he is helmet-less close by fills Hanna with a reckless impulse to sneak back there even though she knows she doesn't nearly have the choobies for such a brazen act.

Anyway, he returns in short order with an empty bowl and asks if they're all set to leave.

.

Soon Kuill is hooking up a trailer to one of his blurrg.

"There," he points at a pile of rags. "For you, Hanna..."

As soon as she investigates she sees she'd clearly miscategorized the small pile. Rather than rags, a thin scarf unfolds.

"Oh..."

"For the sun. You don't want to burn," he explains while tugging and checking all the straps and hook-ups.

"Thank you. You're very generous," she adds when she finds it's actually two scarves piled together.

"They should be worn. Used properly," he waves away her gratitude stubbornly. "And it's only me here. I haven't gotten to host true company in too long," he explains himself.

"...all alone?" Hanna asks quietly, though she's sure the Mandalorian hears.

She's not convinced he doesn't have more tricks in that helmet of his _\- to see, to hear, to breathe. _

"...I haven't always been."

"I understand," she promises. "And I'm sorry."

"Mmm," he acknowledges but does not extrapolate. "It is an honor to pass these things on to someone in need. I have spoken."

He has, indeed, so Hanna only smiles.

"...the men we met said blurrg can't be domesticated."

Kuiil snorts.

"I've forgotten more about blurrg than they will ever know," he declares. "Make yourself comfortable and see what patience has achieved," he points her off toward the trailer. "Even your Mandalorian conquered the ability to saddle and ride one of the girls. Did he tell you?"

Hanna raises an eyebrow at him.

"You have a soft spot for animals?"

"Hardly"

"More like stubbornness and a sore tailbone"

The Mandalorian isn't laughing but Kuiil is. Hanna isn't exactly sure what to think but her lips do twitch at the visual of the Mandalorian - _helmet, cape, and all_ \- falling in an undignified heap.

"Very funny old man," the Mandalorian grumbles darkly but Kuiil doesn't seem bothered by it.

.

The Mandalorian climbs onto the trailer with the bassinet so Hanna follows suit and stretches her legs out in front of her once she takes a seat. Then she begins to unfurl the scarves fully.

Layers seem counterintuitive in the heat of the sun, but cover from its rays will be wise. Her forehead and the back of her neck are already a bit tender from overexposure, so she should cover up some now before she gets an impressive burn. She's surely not the daintiest about it, but she loops one of the scarfs around her neck and ticks it up like a hood to shade her face slightly.

The kid watches her fuss with this curiously, tilting his head in an almost thoughtful way.

"You don't like it?" she grins at him.

He smiles in return. Hanna understands this is mirroring more than an actual response but she takes it well anyway.

He is finished with her after that, it seems, and takes to trying to shimmy out of the bassinet. The Mandalorian keeps prodding him back inside to little squeaks of malcontent. He even takes to clicking his little claws at the Mandalorian like a threat, which makes Hanna laugh out loud.

So the baby laughs, too.

"Yeah. Real intimidating, pal," the Mandalorian rasps with sarcasm Hanna has caught glimpses of as time goes on.

She takes it as a good sign and scoots up closer to the head of the trailer.

"You're still not optimistic, are you?" she checks and reaches into the bassinet to scratch the kid's head now that she's closer.

This he likes. He wiggles his ears in a satisfied way.

"No. This is a ridiculous plan."

"...then is there a back-up plan?"

He sighs deep and long.

"Not yet"

Hanna nods slowly, thinking this might have cost him something to admit. She makes to retract her hand from the bassinet and scoot back to give him some space again.

Sensing this, the kid hops forward and wraps himself around her wrist to catch a ride.

"Seriously?" she raises her arm a fraction and gives it an experimental shake.

He only blinks at her.

"Fine then," she pulls him over to sit with her.

He squirms and hops down to go stand at the edge of the trailer next to the Mandalorian's leg. There he has the best view of the blurrg, never mind it is only its rump. The kid had been very interested in the blurrg earlier, but the Mandalorian had swiftly relocated him to the bassinet. No matter how comfortable Kuiil is with them the Mandalorian apparently isn't taking any chances.

Hanna can't say she disagrees seeing as the blurrg probably wouldn't even notice if it stepped on the poor kid.

"You trust him not to jump?"

Hanna considers the keen way the kid is watching.

"...I like to think he's smarter than that."

She hears a contemplative hum from under the Mandalorian's helmet, but he must not disagree too much for he doesn't reach to move the kid back.

.

Once the sand crawler looms in the distance, the Mandalorian does usher the kid behind him and tenses. He even shifts to remove his rifle from his back and rest it across his thighs instead. Frankly that seems a little aggressive, but there is no guarantee that Kuiil is right and the Jawas will be open to negotiation.

The Mandalorian **had** attacked them, after all.

Indeed, once they're close enough that the Jawas can see what the blurrg is dragging, they spring into something of a tizzy. They scuttle around and shout in a language Hanna does not recognize. To her surprise the Mandalorian seems to understand enough of it, for he snorts.

"They really don't like him," Kuiil interprets for her, though it happens that Hanna could have guessed that much from context alone. "You'll have to put down your rifle."

"I'm a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion..."

"Then you won't be getting any of your parts back"

For a few seconds Hanna feels sure that this simply means they're stuck there for forever. This doesn't seem like a topic the Mandalorian will be likely to flex on, so they were just going to have to become farmers and learn to tame blurrg with-

"Fine," the Mandalorian shoves the rifle aside so that it's sitting on the floor of the trailer just out of arms reach.

.

Well well well.

.

"And your blaster," Kuill adds once he brings them to a stop a stop and the Jawas are still jabbering and waving around their own small weapons.

"Are you serious?"

"Do they not look serious?"

That, in Hanna's opinion, is a hard question to answer. Though she knows the Jawas are more than capable of survival and getting their way, there is something almost comical about them.

The Mandalorian growls quietly and unholsters the pistol.

"This better be quick," he slams the weapon down on the trailer's ledge before tilting his faceplate up at Hanna. "Keep that close..."

"...you really think I'll need it?" she wonders as she hops over the side of the trailers and shakes her legs out after the long ride.

"We'll be fine," Kuill dismisses

"I don't know," the Mandalorian remains, on the whole, less trustful than his friend.

Sorry. Ally.

.

So Hanna lingers back at the trailer with the kid while the two men trudge a bit closer to the sand crawler to sit with the Jawa and talk shop.

.

Some of the Jawa not involved in the trade discussions venture her way, and Hanna's not sure what to think. She stays where she is, close to the gun she'd been left, but doesn't exactly feel uneasy or threatened. More curious. And uncomfortable that she can't tell what they're saying.

They point to her and then back to the males as they chatter. Then the red eyes turn to the kid, then look back to squint a bit at her.

She supposes that she can't blame them. They are not a likely looking group.

"Hi," she greets lamely.

Their chatter increases in speed, and she wonders if any of them have a command of Basic. When none of them return a response that she understands, she has her answer.

"Hey! Get away from them!" the small crowd near her scatters when the Mandalorian shouts in their direction.

Rude.

But then again.

Would Jawas scavenge a living thing if it's as small as the kid? Was that a potentiality here?

Whether it is or isn't the kind of thing they would try to do, they're keeping their distance, now. Though he's largely unarmed, it seems they're still wary of the Mandalorian. Perhaps, even dwelling in the desert as they do, they have encountered his kind.

.

"Is it good that they're so excited?" Hanna asks when the Mandalorian and Kuiil come back toward them.

The Jawa are chanting and jumping about, but that could always be a celebration of triumph over the two.

"Yes"

"No," the Mandalorian refuses to be agreeable and snatches up his gun moodily.

"Yes?" she hopes for Kuiil to continue.

"They are sending him on an errand. Then he gets his parts," Kuiil explains.

"What kind of errand?"

.

.

The sort of errand that necessitates them to go on a trip in a sand crawler, it turns out. In their excitement about an egg, they have even let Kuill guide his blurrg up the gangplank so they can all travel together.

Hanna has never seen a mudhorn, but she has heard tell of the creatures that lurked in giant caves. How the Jawas have come to learn that their eggs are a special delicacy, no one seems to know.

The Mandalorian seems very calm about facing one.

Another reason to question his self preservation instincts. She has found a couple in as many days, which is slightly at odds with his continued survival.

Skill matches stupidity, sometimes.

.

"Umm..." Hanna edges back from a Jawa that looks specifically small when he slowly shuffles closer and closer to her. "What does he want?"

They've decided to keep the kid on the trailer so that he doesn't wander off and get lost amongst the stacked junk inside the sand crawler, so Hanna's been sticking close to him and Kuiil, who's tending his blurrg. The Mandalorian had been up top with the Jawas driving the thing but had returned to the back to check on things. The Jawa down here had rushed away when he first arrived but have been carefully reappearing over the last few minutes. He has ben standing against he wall with his arms crossed for several minutes, and the fact that he's not moving has signaled to them that he's not in a vaporizing mood.

"Your hair," the Mandalorian answers

"Excuse me?" Hanna's hand raises to the scarf now limp around her neck and wonders if she shouldn't raise it as a hood again and hide all of her hair under it.

"Not to steal it," Kuiil interjects. "He's young. He's never met someone with such long hair ..." he has either discerned more or is just in a more sharing mood than the Mandalorian.

Likely both.

"Oh..."

Kuiil talks at the Jawas around him and nods understandingly.

"His name is Tekit. He wants to touch your hair," he relays.

"Umm..." she stares down at the closest Jawa, who's orange eyes blink silently up at her.

She tries to check the Manalorian's opinion, but he doesn't move from where he's leant against the bulkhead.

So he's no help.

"Sure..." she stoops down a little bit.

As soon as her hair swings over her shoulder, a spindly little hand darts out from his dingy brown robe. Hanna braces herself for a sharp tug and almost ducks away, but the black hand just bats at her hair. Then brushes his little fingers through it. Then rubs it between two fingers experimentally.

He's laughing, she thinks.

"Should I be offended?" she looks to Kuill.

"No ...no he likes it," the Ugnaught assures her with a chuckle in his own voice.

"Good..."

This Tekit turns away to yammer at someone, then faces her again to reach out and brush fingers along her dark hair one more time.

The Mandalorian is shaking his head where he's standing, but the kid is smiling. Hanna chooses to side with him and just enjoy the moment.

.

.

The ride in the sand crawler may have been more enjoyable than anticipated, but arriving at their destination had brought everything back to focus. The Jawas stayed a sane and safe distance from their quarry but provided very good insurrections to the nearest mudhorn lair.

A thing they clearly keep close tabs on.

.

So now Hanna's pacing and fretting while Kuill tries talking the Jawas into waiting just a little longer.

It's been too long, see.

They've written the Mandalorian off as dead already.

Kuiil says they aren't shocked.

_'Disappointed, yes, but not surprised.'_

They're grumbling and packing up. Moving on.

And so Hanna has a thing to do.

_'If I'm not back in three hours, come get the kid.'_

Because he'd taken the kid with him on this fools errand..

The Jawas had shown too much curiosity about the baby for the Mandalorian's liking, and he did not trust them not to change the arrangement and have a go at taking him. Kuill and Hanna, he reasoned, could run if they turned nasty. The baby could be snatched up.

So the baby, smiling and entirely content, had floated off toward the mudhorn. Never mind a mudhorn is more likely to be volatile than the conniving but currenlty amenable Jawas.

And Hanna's gong to have to go try to find him. Obviously it's possible they'd both been crushed.

_'Don't think that!' _she hates herself a little for the visual that thought musters.

But she won't **not** go.

Couldn't possibly.

"Please," Kuill shouts his last attempt. "Just a little longer now!"

But no one seems to be listening.

"It's no use," Hanna sighs. "You heard the instructions they gave him, right?"

"Of course ...but it may not be safe..." Kuilil grumbles as the Jawas begin to raise their ramp, waving convivially all the while.

"...are you suggesting I don't go?"

Please don't say that. Because she _needs_ to check but isn't confident in her ability to go on her own and make it back to Kuiil's home.

"Of course we'll go ..."

Hanna's not quite sure what she feels at these words. Something a lot like relief but deeper, somehow.

She needs - _very fervently_\- to find the kid ... ...do mudhorns ear little baby morsels?

_'Cut it out!'_

She's almost as reticent to find out what state the Mandalorian is in. Not quite as ...but almost. He's disagreeable but also steady, which she begrudgingly appreciates. Hanna still feels as grateful for his escort off the planet as she is fearful for what's waiting on the other end of the bounty.

Possibly something better.

Though equally as likely _-if not more so_ \- to be far worse.

.

"On second thought..."

Hanna opens her mouth to protest but then sees Kuiil pointing past her.

Sure enough, the silhouette of the Mandalorian has appeared over the closest hill accompanied by Hanna's favorite floating ball.

She laughs out loud in relief.

.

Hanna and Kuiil walk out to meet the pair only to find the kid asleep.

_Asleep_. All that worrying for nothing.

"Looks like he had an easier time than you..." the Mandalorian is a mess of mud and is walking stiffly.

He doesn't respond, however.

The other two share a look and follow along as he meets the Jawas.

.

In short order, they are celebrating and have cut open the egg to begin eating it's contents greedily.

"I'm not sure what I expected..." Hanna is half amused and half disgusted.

Mere moments later, Tekit dashes their way with a handful of yolk. He thrusts it excitedly at her.

"Oh ...no," she shakes her head and waves her arms in faux sign language. "No thank you."

He persists.

"No," ...the stuff doesn't smell or look appetising, and anyway she is not inclined to eat from his hand. "I don't want any ...could you-"

She tries to appeal to Kuiil through his apparent amusement, but the Mandalorian shoos the Jawa away. Tekit takes this more seriously and scurries away after what could only be described as a hiss.

"I need to get out of here ... ...why aren't you loading my things?" Mandalorian stomps toward the Jawa. "I got your egg ...that's the deal."

He looks at Kuiil, who takes over giving the instructions.

.

Pleased as they are, the Jawas who start to fulfill their half of deal do so still laughing excitedly. The Mandalorian stands sentry to make sure they're actually getting his things. When he's satisfied, he pivots on his heel.

"A word?"

His mask is tilted at Hanna but he doesn't wait for her to respond. He grabs her by the elbow to steer her way from Kuiil toward the back of the hauler.

"Ow," she tugs to free herself and he allows it.

"What is he?" he stands close enough to have to duck his chin down at her.

Hanna blinks.

"What happened?" she looks instinctively for the bassinet despite having already seen he's fine.

The Mandalorian grasps her chin to turn her right back his way.

"I'm asking the questions. What can he do?" he does make clear that the baby's done something.

Her eyes widen a fraction.

"I don't know..."

"Lie number one"

Distantly, Hanna wonders how many he plans to allow.

"It's not! I'm not sure what he does..."

"But you know what I'm talking about."

"...yes."

Her eyes drift to the side when two Jawas dragging a crate stop and chatter to each other with their eyes on the pair. The Mandalorian looks, too.

"Mind your own business!" he growls and they hurriedly lift the bin to move on.

Once they do so the Mandalorian releases her, though he doesn't back out of her space.

"I'm not sure why he only does it sometimes," she offers in reward for this good behavior. "Sometimes it's like he forgets he can. Other times I can tell he tries but nothing happens," she explains and rubs the cuff of her sleeve absently at her chin where his gloved fingers had bit at her.

He process this for a beat or two before she dares say more.

"What happened?"

For several quiet moments she thinks that he will never give her an answer.

"He stopped the mudhorn. It was charging me ...and then it was just floating in midair..."

"Stars..."

If he were someone else she would think he's making it all up, but he's not the fantastical sort.

"My thoughts exactly."

"... ...I've never seen him do anything that big. I hoped. I mean ...obviously I wished he would..."

She trials off, but he grunts like he understands what she'd hoped for while being chased or cooped in that camp.

"No wonder it wiped him out then..."

"Yeah," Hanna looks toward the baby again and isn't impeded by him.

"Say more. What else have you seen him do?" he presses.

"Little things or ..."

"What?"

"It's just an impression..."

"Of what?"

"Like he knows what to expect sometimes. Like he knows where I'm going or who's coming ...it's stupid," she knows it could be her own expectations playing tricks on her. "It's almost like..." she clamps her lips shut and grinds her teeth.

"Like what?"

"... ...I shouldn't say anything I can't prove," she eyes him dubiously.

She'll say it.

She could.

She just doesn't want to. Doesn't want to seem crazy. He's just so tiny and she can't quite believe the claim that he's fifty. And yet it seems clear he's ...but it's silly, isn't it?

Maybe she should say out loud it so the Mandalorian can scoff at her. Then maybe it would be easier to dismiss it .

"No. Maybe not," he agrees instead.

Does he know the words she's censoring? Surely he must. He's well-traveled. He can't be ignorant.

"Who wants us? What's going to happen to him?"

Hanna has shared. It seems fair, to her, that he could, too.

More Jawas trudge by and the Mandalorian deems them more interesting than their conversation, side-stepping so he can follow after them.

"Careful with that!"

.

Right.

Well.

She only has herself to blame for having expectations, really.


	5. Wishing on stars

**Hey ya'll - thanks for the feedback/support. I'm glad folks are enjoying this story :D**

**.**

**Chapter 5**: Wishing on stars

"You're planning to just sit there all day?"

"Sorry?" Hanna looks up from drawing mindless patterns in the dirt for the kid's amusement. "Did the two of you need an audience? Some clapping for moral support?"

She's not surprised by the stoic silence the Mandalorian responds with.

.

They had arrived back at the Mandalorian's ship late in the night, but he and Kuiil had been working on piecing his aircraft back together since sunrise.

While they do so, Hanna is simply looking after herself and the kid. She had grown used to busying herself with needless tasks over the past few months. How many had it been, exactly?

She isn't sure in the technical sense.

But a depressing amount sounds about right, give or take.

.

"You have two hands, don't you?" he sasses right back.

Hanna does not applaud it. She does resist the urge to goad him by looking down to make a show of checking that she does, indeed.

"Sure"

"Then I can teach you to use a solderer. Come on."

Hanna glances at the kid thoughtfully. Doesn't want to help. Knows she should.

"I thought you said he's smart enough not to go dive off a cliff," the Mandalorian rasps.

Well. Touche.

So she had.

"Using my words against me ...kindda rude," she shoves herself to her feet anyway and brushes herself off.

"It's not hard..."

Hanna's unclear whether he means it's easy to twist her words or the soldering job he has for her will be easy, but she decides not to ask. The Mandalorian is prickly today - _not without good reason_ \- and so is likely to go for the low blow if she opens the door.

.

And so Hanna becomes part of the tiny crew piecing The Razor Crest back together. They aren't an incapable trio but it still isn't a simple task. It's unclear how long the Jawas had taken to disassemble the thing, but they'd had at least 24 hours to work with.

Kuiil maintains they would never need that long even for a big job given how many of them there are and how deft they are at disassembly. The Mandalorian takes issue with the word _'disassembly' _because it implies orderliness; he is of the mind they'd mostly just torn things asunder.

Semantics aside, most things in the galaxy are easier to pull apart than they are to safely rebuild.

A ship built for deep space is no exception.

.

"How long should it take? If you had to guess," Hanna asks Kuiil over a scrappy dinner.

She knows better than to question the Mandalorian on such a sore topic.

"We've made good process," he grades them favorably. "Another day. Perhaps two..."

"That's not so bad ... ..."

Or maybe it is. But Hanna's trying to be optimistic today.

Then the kid throws a coughing fit and she's distracted.

He coughs and gurgles as she reaches for him, then spits into the sand and sighs.

"Bone," Kuiil points out, as Hanna toes at the little wad the kid had regurgitated.

"You gotta be careful," she chides the kid lightly.

Kuiil had spitted and roasted a fair sized snake over the fire after it had the misfortune to cross their paths earlier in the afternoon. It had actually been Hanna who killed it. More out of instinct to jump on it than any real skill or strategic plan to eat it. Even so, it's nice to contribute.

Although, a couple small burns on her fingers stand testament that she'd been working for most of the afternoon. Not super hard, mind, but diligently enough that the Mandalorian was satisfied when he came to check her work. Because of course she wasn't left completely to her own devices.

That would be foolish of him, even it would be equally as foolish for Hanna to purposefully sabotage a ship she would soon be flying through space inside of.

.

.

The second day goes much the same, though by nightfall the ship actually looks whole from the outside. Now it's more a matter of testing and tinkering and recalibrating until everything's just right.

"You'll be out of here by tomorrow night," Kuiil predicts as he's saddling up his blurrg. "Unless we've severely miscalculated ... ...I will return in the morning."

He needs to go home to properly feed his beast and check on the rest of his farm but has already promised to return. He's supposed aloud that he'll even bring breakfast if he's feeling generous, so Hanna expects without a doubt that they will be getting breakfast.

"Good night"

"You are always free to join..." he offers one last time.

Hanna smiles but shakes her head. The Mandalorian has already flatly refused to leave his ship again, perhaps imagining the Jawas are lurking nearby to wait for him to turn a blind eye a second time so they can try to con him into finding another egg. Therefore the kid will most certainly stay here with him, and so Hanna will also stay.

"We'll be alright"

"Remember to stay close to the fire. It cools deceptively around here once the sun is gone..." Kuill grunts as he mounds his ungainly steed.

Hanna already knows this, of course, but she doesn't comment. If Kuiil can't host them in his own home he'll offer caring advice. She finds this more charming than condescending .

So as he lumbers away atop the blurrg, she turns back to the fire that the Mandalorian is already starting. The flame has sparked and he's coaxing it into proper life while also brushing back the kid, who's excited about the heat and the possibility of coming food.

"Come on, you," she sweeps forward to scoop him up and hold him high above her head. "No distractions."

He just coos and wiggles his legs excitedly as if he'd never dreamed of distracting anyone ever.

Lies, of course. All of it. He'd been malcontent with all of the adults working by the time late afternoon had rolled around and had therefore insinuated himself everywhere possible. Walking under foot. Attempting to climb anything he could curl his hands around. Picking up what tools he could as if under the impression that he ought to help, too.

The Mandalorian had kept a strange distance except when absolutely necessary for the sake of safety. Yet Hanna saw that he was always watching. Eyeing the kid closely. Perhaps to see if he showed any further signs of ability. Of power beyond his station.

Not that he did.

He'd been a regular kid for the last two days.

.

A kid who does not wind up pleased with the evenings offering of a dinner cobbled together from the Mandalorian's stores rather than a fresh catch. He proves himself hungry by gobbling a couple assorted nuts, but then he promptly uses the calories to dig shallowly in the sand in search of bugs.

He doesn't venture far from the glow of the fire, so at least there are small favors.

.

"Here..."

The Mandalorian shoves an upturned crate a bit closer to the warmth of the fire next to Hanna. He had earlier used it as a stool but treats it as a table, now, and drops a very small drawstring bag onto it before seating himself into the sand on the other side.

Hanna's first thought is that it's a wallet, but she can't imagine why he would be giving her any credits. Sure she was helping him repair his ship, but she isn't exaclty an employee.

Still, he's not offering an explanation while he settles himself in so she unties the bag and upturns it.

To reveal little carved dice.

She blinks at the six of them.

"...you play games?"

"This teaches strategy," he points at the tabletop

"... ...right. So you play games," Hanna concludes, though she can't quite picture it.

"Fine," he doesn't seem to mind and stiffens to rise. "Sit there and count the sand."

"No! No, I want to play it. Teach me..."

The Mandalorian chuffs under his mask and relaxes back down to do so.

The name of the game is either a nonsense word or is just a language she doesn't know - _based on her understanding of the Mandalorian, she guesses the latter_. Regardless, the overall concept of the game isn't hard to grasp and, though she doesn't tell him so, the Mandalorian is a surprisingly good teacher. He explains and then does a few practice rolls to give examples of the rules. He even does a few things wrong to see if she catches him to prove she truly understands..

"So," Hanna flicks away the kid's hand when he reaches towards the top of the crate, for he is enthralled with the rattling of the dice and seems to want one badly. "Are you the kind of guy who gets mad over losing? Just so I know what I'm getting into..."

Inscrutable silence follows this question for a few beats.

"I'll be angry if I think you're letting me win, if that's what you're really asking," he decides at length.

"Good to know..."

.

So she doesn't let him win.

Which isn't to say _she _wins their first game. But it's a close thing and the game is kind of addicting, half-luck and half-strategy as it is.

"You're good," the Mandalorian spontaneously decides as they get into their second round and he watches her discard the dice numbers she is not allowed to have and choose to re-roll the rest. "With probability, I mean."

"Wow. Is that a compliment?"

Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but she's actually having a good time so it's hard not to shoot a grin across the crate table toward him.

"More a statement of fact."

Fine then.

Not exactly a shoot-down but lacking good humor all the same.

"...are you surprised?"

He cocks his head at her for that one rather than respond.

"I mean ...did you assume I was just some stupid girl to get myself caught up in that camp back there?"

She'd meant that as an accusation, but once she speaks it she realizes it is a pretty telling question.

He says nothing for a time, but Hanna is growing accustomed to his blank consideration so she forces herself to simply wait.

"...I've never said that."

Interesting.

"Mmhmm..." she doesn't commit to her stance on his answer.

She hopes he'll say more.

Also isn't surprised that he doesn't feel the need to go on.

Rather than press she takes note of her sum and slides the dice back across to him.

Truth be told, she hasn't really been giving a lot of thought to what he must think of her. Not deeply, anyway. He clearly doesn't find her overly-annoying because he hasn't brought out any kind of muzzle again. He also must not believe she has dastardly intentions at the moment since he'd allowing her to work on the ship - _albeit with some supervision. _Beyond these superficial and reactionary elements, she hasn't let herself get caught up in what he thinks when he looks at her. Maybe because it's so hard to tell.

Though his body language is surprisingly expressive the more you get acclimated to him, there's clearly no way to read his face. He can hide emotion and small, telling reactions so completely behind his mask that he remains an enigma.

So he might think she's a useless dolt.

But she also could have been projecting with her question. After all, how often has she sat thinking of how differently she could have done things? What if she'd jumped planet with the kid sooner than she had? What if she had chosen any other hiding place? What if she'd never hidden, just kept moving? She could have been quicker. Craftier. More swift on the uptake.

.

"Mmmmrp"

Once he lost interest in the softly-clattering dice, the kid had climbed into Hanna's lap and wiggled space for himself in her crossed legs to drift off to sleep.

He's blinking up at her now almost like he's sensed her internal distress on the topic.

Of course, that could be projection, too. A much more comfortable one, however.

"Go back to sleep," she murmurs and brushes her knuckles over the soft, fuzz-like hair dotting the top of his head.

This usually soothes him, but he just continues to blink up at her.

"What?"

For reasons she can't explain, she feels uneasy about the way he's looking at her...even though there's nothing overtly strange about it...

"Your roll"

"Yeah," she glances up when the dice are slid her way but then looks back down without accepting them.

Blink. Blink.

She really wishes he could talk.

"...is he alright?"

"I think so," she knows she doesn't sound confident. "Yeah ...yeah, he's fine..."

Yet she still feels restless as they continue to play - _even when she does win!_

.

Once darkness is more fully settled-in and the small fire isn't the best light to play games by, the Mandalorian tucks the dice away and disappears into his ship for whatever his evening routine is. Dinner, she supposes. Or bathing.

Maybe just getting away from her and the kid.

That's always a possibility.

Speaking of, the kid shuffles to his feet and tries following right after when the man leaves.

"No, no - we can't," Hanna thwarts him and plumps up his blanket to settle him back into. "And you need to sleep, anyway."

She gets a 'chirp' for her efforts that only makes her feel mildly guilty.

Mildly.

Not much.

"C'mon"

She scoots the makeshift bed closer to the fire anyway and sits next to him within its warm glow.

She's not convinced _she'll_ sleep - _not with her nervous energy and the knowledge that they'll be hurtling toward an unknown future tomorrow when they're able to take-off_ \- but the kid should.

.

He does not, however.

.

He sits and looks around dolefully, his head scanning this way and that. Hanna feels like he's waiting for the Mandalorian's return before he'll sleep. Yet if that were the case he should've been staring longingly at the ship.

But no he's looking here and there, all over.

Like she wasn't tense enough.

"What is it?" she eventually asks, paranoid though she knows there will be no answer form him.

But he's legitimately creeping her out, now.

Making her think something is out there when there isn't.

Unless, you know, there actually is...

Maybe she _does_ hear something other than an errant breeze.

It's hard to say, and staring into the darkness doesn't actually help. Just makes her think she sees shadows shifting where there are none.

.

But she's already thought about it too much already.

She's spooked herself over ...well, she _hopes_ over nothing.

Hanna climbs to her feet, scooping the kid up on the way. It might bug the Mandalorian to be interrupted in whatever he's doing, but she can probably think of a non-embarrassing reason she needs to go in there ...

She shuffles to the edge of the firelight to strain her eyes and ears a bit.

Squints.

Holds her breath.

Because ...well, just because she's pretty sure she's manufactured this fear, but there's no way to be sure.

There could be anything out there.

Or, yeah, there could also be nothing.

.

She glances at the ship again. She hasn't explicitly been told to stay away... ...

Hanna looks back towards the darkness that's probably also nothingness, and she finds eyes staring back at her from a shadowy face.

She reels back and draws breath to shout but is grabbed around the shoulders and mouth before she can.

Hanna immediately drops her weight to slip free, and in the jostling of the act the kid rolls from her grasp onto the sand.

"Kriff!" her fear spreads in two directions, and she twists to find him despite the threat looming above her.

So it shouldn't be a surprise when hands yank her back up, but she gasps all the same. She tries to scramble away but finds no purchase in the sand. When a hand squeezes over her mouth again, she registers she ought to be screaming. Why isn't she screaming?

Someone with a vaporizer and a happy trigger finger would come in handy right about now, right?

Hanna whips her head backward but only meets a shoulder. Then the hand on her face is able to keep her head cocked back at that angle, leaving her regrettably vulnerable.

In her peripheral she sees the kid toddle out of the yellow firelight, both relieving and terrifying her.

"Mmmf!" she shouts behind the hand - _for him to run or come back, she's not so sure. _

She gets a hard shake for that and is spun around despite her squirming and pushing.

There are two other silhouetted figures that she can make out riffling trough the few things they have around their fire. One of them rises and says something _\- to her? _-that she can't quite make out over the blood pounding in her ears. The buffoon with a hold on her responds and Hanna has the wherewithal to recognize she doesn't know the language.

The one who'd recently stood is gesturing to her. Her heart races faster even though she can't make out his face well enough to tell if he's menacing or not.

Then again, no one breaks into camps for fun reasons.

So she's certainly less than happy to be manhandled closer to him. She tries to dig her feet in to no avail, so when the dark figures reaches a hand for her she doesn't have many places to go. She shifts her weight and kicks at him.

Hard.

Her foot lands on his hip and manages to send him sprawling.

Straight into the fire.

Everything seems to freeze for a breath like no one believes that had actually quite happened. Though they surely all know what's coming nect.

.

Seconds later, the man is screaming.  
.

And Hanna's thrown unceremoniously to the ground. She watches in mute shock as the man thrashes and his friends try to pull him free.

She hadn't _planned_ that to happen .

But, hey.

She's not apologizing.

She and the kid had been minding their own business, after all.

.

_The kid_.

She spins round onto her knees to scan the area but sees no sight of him. Had he gone to the ship? Would he know to? Or just run blindly into the night?

She looks toward the ship for him in time to see the Mandalorian come skidding down the ramp. He slides smoothly to one knee and raises his rifle, so she dives down to flatten herself on the ground before a few screeching blasts streak past and add to the chaos.

"No!" her own shouts join said chaos when a hand closes around her foot and starts yanking. "No, no, no..."

She kicks with her other foot when the hands start dragging her back and scrambling up her leg. She tries to twist round to see her target and aim a better blow but is wrenched back by the strong hold. Then her breath '_huffs'_ from her chest when a heavy weight lands on her and shoves her face against the dirt.

Large hands squeeze her upper arms next and tug her up to stand on her knees.

She's staring at the ship again, and once her sight clears she can see the Mandalorian is still kneeling near the base of the ramp.

Not moving.

Not firing.

.

Because she's a human shield now.

Right.

This is life.

.

"Up. Up ...get up!"

The accented voice at her ear is demanding, and she's standing along with the male behind her before she can think to do anything else. Once she's on her feet again an arm curls around her shoulders and something cold and unyielding is shoved at the base of her neck.

She can guess what that is without seeing it.

"Let it go, Mandalorian!" the same voice shouts.

To Hanna's relief, he does not.

Slowly, he stands from his knelt position. Just as slowly, he starts walking down the rest of the ramp.

"You'll shoot us both? Huh?"

No thank you.

And the Mandalorian does still has his rifle tucked into his shoulder, but he's not shooting. He's just slowly walking forward like he's calm and knows exactly what he's doing.

Which, to be fair, he very well might. This is probably exactly the kind of thing he has done before.

Good for him.

Unclear if it's good for her.

.

There's still someone screaming and moaning behind them, though the other voice is gone. Had they made a break for it? Are they dead?

Hanna can't get a look.

"You didn't share before ...you must not want to hurt her..."

Before?

Share.

_Share._

.

Old friends from the night they'd made it to Kuiil's. Just who she never wanted to see again.

Krong.

.

The Mandalorian doesn't answer, just keeps slowly stalking forward as Hanna and her hanger-on shuffle backwards. Past the scattered fire. Past an unmoving body and the man she'd kicked into the fire. He groans and reaches toward his once-friend but is ignored entirely.

.

"Stay right there! No more!"

The Mandalorian stops now that he's been explicitly ordered to do so.

They begin edging up the dune behind them, and Hanna trips herself since it's too dark to see the slope change.

"Enough!" the gun digs harder into the flesh behind her ear until she can figure out her footing.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Hanna holds her hands out in an automatic show of innocence, never mind that he's behind her.

"Stop!"

The goon behind her reaches under her arm to thrust the gun straight out towards the Mandalorian, who'd hunkered into his rifle in anticipation.

"Put it down! We're going!"

Slowly, at the edge of the fire's light, the Mandalorian does lower his weapon towards the ground. Hanna's heart drops right along with it.

Not that she's sure how she expected him to get a shot off with this fool stooped behind her to hide. She had appreciated the possibility, however.

Goodbye.

So long.

She's about to human-shield them right out of there.

"He ran off into the dark," she urges the Mandalorian to go find the kid if he's not going to be able to help her. "I don't know where he - okay!" she cringes and tries to shrink away from the gun as it returns to her.

"We go!" the gruff voice behind her shouts again and backs them up further.

"You better be good at hiding," the Mandalorian returns steadily, and Hanna tries to glom onto this confidence.

"Enough!" the man shouts and points his gun out at the Mandalorian again. "Maybe I do kill her!"

"Your friends wouldn't be happy," Hanna tries to dissuade him.

Not that this prospect is a pleasant one to her, but if she can just survive this then maybe there will be a way out. The thought makes her nauseous, but even so.

"Silence!"

His hand twitches, likely to round the gun back at her, but doesn't complete the movement.

His arm twitches again but little more.

And they aren't shuffling backwards any longer.

"Myah!" Hanna hears a familiar squeak on the breeze.

She gawks at the extended arm beside her for a few more moments before she fully process why it's just hanging there in the air uselessly.

Holy hell.

_He's doing it. _

.

Hanna shoves at the arm curled round her shoulders. It's stuck in some form of living rigor and so doesn't budge much, but she's still able to duck from his hold. His fingers are curled in the sleeve of her shirt and remain hooked there, hiking her shirt up, much to her chagrin.

Not there's much room for shame when looking for an escape.

**_Pyew!_**

Red flashes overhead and then all that stiff weight crumples straight to the ground. The body half slumps onto Hanna, tangling her both in her shirt and limbs.

"Kriff..."

She squirms the rest of the way out of her shirt and scrambles from under the torso. He can't hurt her now, of course, but there's her own sanity to worry about. The morbidity of death piled directly on top of her fear is a sickening combination.

And yet she finally feels safe, so relief is valiantly trying to wash both away.

.

So she just needs to sit a second and catch her breath and -

"Where are you!" she twists herself off of her ass and onto her knees again to squint into the night for the kid.

She'd heard him.

He's -

Fingers close over Hanna's shoulder, causing her to jump. For a moment she thicks wildly of a zombie.

"It's me."

That modulated voice is distinctive, as are the shadows of the Mandalorian's frame once she turns around fully.

"Right...I know."

It's a fib and they probably both know it.

Doesn't matter. It feels good to speak confidently.

Even so, she grabs the wrist of the hand holding her shoulder and squeezes onto it for a moment to anchor herself as she makes to stand. Covered in a vambrace his arm isn't comforting in a warm way, but it is solid and strong ...and that's it's own sort of consolation.

"The kid's here, right? He did that..." Hanna finally returns to task. " Can you see him?"

He has a helmet full of tricks. Surely he -

"Yes," the Mandalorian answers. "He's back closer to the fire..."

"Good..."

It's nice that he knows things because she's still cooling down out of survival mode and she's not quite sure what to do about it.

He retreats from her to stomp over and rustle around the body now crumpled in the sand. To check that his shot was true, maybe. Or seeing if there's anything worth pillaging.

To the winner goes the spoils, or so they say.

"Here."

Hanna reaches blindly towards the fuzzy, moonlit outline of the Mandalorian and her fingers close around fabric.

Oh.

_Oh._

She'd nearly forgotten that her trembling isn't completely for fear. She's shivering.

Quietly hoping that night vision can't possibly pick-up on blushing, she snatches her shirt back and thrusts her arms and head through it. She tugs the hem straight down to her waist and crosses her arms in front of her.

If the Mandalorian thinks that's prudish or an overreaction he has the grace not to say so.

"So there's ...not more of them out there, right?"

"Would I just be standing here if there were?"

No.

So what. Screw you.

"Could you just say it?" there's a plea in her voice that Hanna doesn't want to acknowledge.

And she's probably just setting herself up for disappointment anyway.

"...it's just us," the Mandalorian confirms after a moment or two.

Eureka.

"Thanks..."

.

Hanna isn't exactly sure-footed but starts making her way back to the fire. The Mandalorian falls-in a half pace behind her without a word.

"He's there..."

But Hanna had already spotted the shadowy blob ahead of them, so she stoops to easily intercept the kid shuffling their way.

"You're the smartest," she holds him up to eye-level even though she can't make out his features to meet his eyes properly.

She gets a coo for this and imagines he's smiling. Hanna can't quite muster a smile in return yet, but she tucks him into her chest cozily. He burrows in and gives another pleased squeak.

.

"Stay here," the Mandalorian orders when they reach the disheveled bonfire.

As if she'd been planning to leave the warmth and security of it. Never.

She squats down to get her and the kid closer to the flames while the Mandalorian stomps past. The sand is disturbed on the other side of the fire and she hasn't forgotten the man who'd fallen.

Well. The man who she'd kicked.

His screaming had not been pleasant.

She doesn't feel bad. Not really. A little grossed-out maybe.

Nor is she particularly sorry that the Mandalorian is - _she presumes_\- going to finish him off.

"No! No, no, no!"

Well. Okay. She's a little sorry she is going to have to hear it...

.

Hanna's springs up quickly when the Mandalorian comes back into clear view dragging a squirming body by an ankle. The man's trying in vain to dig his fingers into the dirt, but he doesn't come to a stop until the Mandalorian wants him to and tosses his leg aside beside Hanna.

"You want to do the honors?" he unholsters his blaster lazily.

The man begins trying to crawl away but the Mandalorian steps on his calf to stop him.

Hanna's eyes widen and she eyes the blaster.

Then the man on the ground.

The man who's cowering in the sand. The man she's already attacked. The man who'd come here with his friends to attack _her_. Who she can't imagine the world will miss. Who _she_ certainly won't miss.

And yet there's something pathetic about him now.

"...he's already hurt..." she doesn't reach for the proffered gun.

"I doubt he'd have given you the same courtesy," the Mandalorian counters dispassionately.

A chill shakes her spine.

"I know, I just ..."

She _does_ know.

And she hates this stranger for it. Is disgusted by the man in a way that festers deep down within her. Yet somewhere between that feeling and action there's something more calm. She's safe now and he doesn't scare her anymore...

"Alright"

.

So the Mandalorian shoots him in the head instead.

.

Hanna jerks and tightens her hold on the kid, hoping he didn't see, but can't manage to be offended.

If anything she's glad it's over.

If that makes her a hypocrite because she couldn't do it herself ...she can live with that.

.  
.

After the Mandalorian drags the bodies further from his ship he kills what's left of the fire and builds a new one closer to The Razor Crest so he can have its hull at his back.

Just in case, he says.

He'd gone for a little walk while disposing of the bodies and hadn't seen anyone else staking them out. Thinks this was just an unhappy band from the camp he'd wreaked havoc at who happened to have lucked upon them.

Mostly-convinced but not entirely, Hanna hasn't reclaimed her now-typical spot across from him. Instead, she's relocated to sit right next to where the Mandalorian has seated himself. She doesn't explain herself and he doesn't ask.

They're quiet.

Unmoving but tense.

The only one relaxed is the kid, who'd fallen easily to sleep once the new fire was going. Hanna has to admit she's a little jealous.

"...do you think he's tired because of what he did?" she asks but doesn't really expect an answer.

Neither of them can _know_ for sure.

But the kid had hardly been ready for sleep earlier.

Then again, that had clearly been because he'd sensed something menacing nearby.

.

He's something else.

Truly.

.

"Maybe," the Mandalorian considers fairly. "He passed out before, but the mudhorn was much bigger."

"Hmm..."

Hanna straightens the kid's blanket needlessly and tries not to freak herself out with "what ifs." What if the kid had run off? What if he'd gone to hide on the ship? What if he hadn't seen or understood what was happening? What if _it_ hadn't worked? What if ...

"You can sleep, too," the Mandalorian cuts into her thoughts. "I'll be staying awake."

"Yeah, I should..."

But its still some more time before she shifts around to lay on her side and stare blankly into the fire until her eyelids become too heavy.

.

It's still dark when Hanna wakes next.

Her eyes snap open after her dream brings forth the image of an unknown, shadowed face appearing out of the dark. The bright yellow fire immediately stings her retinas and she blinks rapidly as she sits up.

There are no shadows looming in the dark when she looks around, and the kid and the Mandalorian are both where she'd left them upon falling asleep. The later sitting with his legs folded and his back leant against the crate they'd earlier used as a table, and the former curled up near her knees

Still, her heart races while her brain tries to convince her body she's alright. The danger isn't real this time.

Just a dream.

Though there _is_ still danger lurking in her future...

She glances towards the statuesque Mandalorian.

"I'm still awake.

His voice doesn't startle her, she realizes, because she's not surprised that this is so.

"Yeah, I figured," she nods and scratches a hand through her her hair. "You said you would be ..."

And he doesn't strike her as someone who talks just to hear his own voice.

"Then go back to sleep"

"Mmhmm..."

But it's not that easy, sir.

The threat of her dream was imaginary, but the shot of adrenaline from that has her synapses firing and they've all jolted off in an uneasy direction.

Worrying, again, what's coming when they leave. Knowing she can't ask ... ...or, rather, she _can_ but there will decidedly be no answer. Scared it will be worse than idling in the middle of a desert. Angry she can't keep the kid or herself from whatever it is.

Confused because the Mandalorian is to blame but is also her safest ally out here. Has stood between her and something horrible more than once.

It's more than enough to make her head spin.

.

Hanna finds that her eyes are too damp, so she does lay down incase tears start to fall. She doesn't want the Mandalorian to see that. Showing that type of emotion in front of someone who has quite literally hidden all of their own is far more vulnerable than she is willing to be right now. She may as well flay herself right open for him.

No thank you.

She shifts around restlessly and pokes at the scarves she's folded up as a pretend pillow. They aren't much but do keep even more sand from finding a home in her hair.

But not all of it.

Never all of it.

She doesn't think she'll miss sand.

She might miss the stars, though, she realizes and rolls onto her back to stare up at them. She'd spent the last couple years living at a starport so smoggy that one hardly caught more than a glimpse of the stars.

Here they stretch from horizon to horizon, and it's beautiful.

If lonely.

Hanna huffs and rolls back onto her side.

Hasn't she already resolved not to cry? Yes. So she starts trying to shut away any thought of being scared or lonely...

.

Then again ...why bother?

It's true that she doesn't want to show these emotions in front of the Mandalorian, but she's already at his mercy. Has been for several days, now. It doesn't get much more vulnerable than that.

She's literally alive and (essentially) unharmed right now on his whim.

Which is precarious but does sort of help with that lonely feeling. Someone is watching her back.

For now, at least.

That might not be so in a few days.

Heedless of those walls she'd been intent on building, Hanna stretches her arm to slide her hand across the foot or so separating her and the Mandalorian. She tucks her fingers under his leg without hesitating or second guessing.

To feel some body heat.

To remind herself someone's right there.

.

He twitches but doesn't toss her hand away.

Small win.

"What are you doing?"

"Sleeping," but that's a blatant lie, and he'll surely point it out. "Trying to sleep."

Perfectly true.

But she had been told not to touch him recently so ...

The Mandalorian says nothing and continues his statue impersonation.

Victorious.

Hanna smiles a little at the fire. This Mandalorian might not be the company she would have chosen, but he's what she has for now on this particular journey of theirs.


	6. As real as it gets

_Chapter Six!_

_Thanks again for the follows/reviews. It's so exciting when people are into it. _

_Stay healthy and safe. _

_And enjoy: _

* * *

**Chapter 6: As real as it gets**

Leaving Kuiil had been ...difficult.

He'd been an overtly friendly face for the past few days, and friendly faces had been unfortunately hard to come by as of late. Not to mention that saying good-bye to him meant one step closer to the end of this little odyssey they're on.

The Mandalorian, it seems, hadn't really been ready to part with him, either. Hanna had quietly watched-on as he thanked Kuiil and tried to pay him ...and then even tried to recruit him.

Which was surprising.

Also oddly impressive to see the Mandalorian admit he could use help. Or at least that it wouldn't hurt him.

But Kuiil, of course, refused. Didn't want payment and had no desire to leave the life he'd built there for himself. He'd seemed pleased with the Mandalorian's offer like he took it for the compliment it was, but he was also proud and content with his home.

And so closed the door on Arvala-7 and Kuiil the Ugnaut.

.

Opening the chapter of deep space travel.

In a word: "eh."

While there's no sand or chance of sunburn during this type of travel, Hanna had let herself forget that it can also be stifling.

She's too restless for such a confined space.

The baby's much to bored in a place where there are so many things he's not allowed to touch.

Then there's the Mandalorian.

Maybe because he knows neither of his passengers can wander off now, but he's been quieter than ever. One may not have guessed it would be true, but alas.

It is.

Hanna understands. He's got duties on the ship. Makes sense. And he's probably used to a certain kind of routine in his ship. Fine.

But she's got her sanity to worry about.

She had wrangled another game or three of dice out of him in the first twenty-four hours, but he'd hadn't been goaded into even stilted conversation.

Since then she hasn't seen much point.

.

Which is how she winds up alone in the cockpit when she should be sleeping.

There's not much difference up there between day and night, but they haven't been flying long enough to throw-off her circadian rhythm entirely.

"Getting big ideas?"

Hanna jerks up from where she's been resting her elbows on the back of the pilot's seat to see the Mandalorian at the doors.

She shouldn't be surprised. Now that they're spending their time indoors, she'd learning how quietly he manages to move around in that armor of his.

Unnatural, some might say.

It's pretty slick of him, though, if Hanna were to tell the truth.

And if you twist her arm she just might.

.

To respond to his question - _dare she say accusation?-_ Hanna simply shrugs and heaves a sigh.

"More like dreaming."

He doesn't respond, though Hanna can't imagine he spends so much time in space _\- alone or otherwise_ \- and honestly doesn't find himself daydreaming. Of course she is imagining this hunk of metal flying to a destination of her own choosing. A welcoming and safe place. Somewhere temperate and with lots of grass, if she gets to be picky in this fantasy.

But his continued staring makes her very aware that she's at _his_ seat. Not that she'd doing anything in particular to it, but maybe he's territorial.

That would track, actually.

"So," she steps away from it to lean on the seat to the right of it instead. "How much longer?"

If she's already spotted their destination on the Nav unit, it's not his business. And, besides, she doesn't know anything about this Navaro. The more information the better.

Silence.

"What?" she scoffs. "Is that too close to whining? You could just put me out of my misery and tell me. What'll it hurt you?"

More silence.

She swallows a few choice words and turns her back on him to stare at the stars some more.

"No more dreaming. Come on."

"...in a minute," Hanna plunks her chin onto her palm.

It's not as if she knows whether she'll get a view like this again any time soon.

"Come on," he repeats himself. "Don't make it hard now."

"...what if I wanted to?" she peers over her shoulder.

She doesn't, just for the record.

So she sort of regrets the sass. On the other hand ...she _is_ a little curious. He does seem to have boundaries, after all. She hasn't mapped them all, but they're there.

A few beats pass in silence and she's not sure what it means. She hasn't challenged his ultimate authority so directly since day one or so.

"I'll show you," he decides and takes a step closer.

Hanna draws away, twisting her back flush with the seat behind her.

"Don't worry," he sounds either amused or annoyed. "Choices have been working well for us."

Huh.

_'Easy or hard?'_

_'You want to do the honors?'_

Well...true.

Still, Hanna makes sure to give him a wide berth on her way around to the ladder, which she descends slowly. In contrast, he slides right down and marches her to the cargo hold.

When they reach one of the back walls the Mandalorian peels back a door to reveal what appears to be a terrified statue carved into a slab of stone. The face looks painted and the man's hands are up in the defense.

Surprised, Hanna steps back but only meets the Mandalorian's breastplate at her back blocking the exit.

"That's...?"

"Older bounty..." he actually chooses to explain. "Haven't made delivery yet. You want to join him?"

Hanna shakes her head.

"No? ...it could be a peaceful way to finish our last night of the trip. I wouldn't know..." he explains dispassionately.

"No" she voices with finality.

"Good," he decides and reaches around her to slam the door back into place. "Then stick with the kid."

Hanna feels nervous despite his calm dismissal.

She's not sure what had happened to that person and she isn't sure she wants to ask.

But boy would she like to know.

She teeters in indecision for a few moments before ultimately deciding not to push. She'll do as she's asked and check on the kid even if she's not going to be able to forget the frozen look of fear she'd just seen any time soon.

.

It's not until she's tucking the child's blanket more securely around him that she processes what the Mandalorian had really said.

_'...the last night of the trip.'_

He'd answered her.

.

More pressingly: they'd be arriving tomorrow.

.

.

.

**"Greetings Mando!"**

Hanna freezes before entering the cockpit when she hears the Mandalorian receiving a communique.

**"I recieved your transmission - wonderful news! Upon your arrival make delivery directly to the client."**

Hanna shifts and sees a blue-hewn hologram delivering this order to him.

**"I have no idea if he wants to eat that thing or hang it on his wall, but he's very antsy...****_" _**the holo laughs.

Is this the Mandalorian's boss? He's very stupid in Hanna's opinion. And has a piss poor sense of humor.

**"Come see me after."**

The message ends, leaving the image of the man frozen and flickering in place until the Mandalorian clicks it off.

"I doubt he wants to eat either of you," only then does he offer commentary.

Hanna isn't shocked he knows she's there.

That being said, she'd love to sneak up on him one day.

.

Only this is the last day, isn't it?

.

She swallows thickly and pretends that's no bother.

"Do you know what he _does_ want?" she dares once she finishes entering and slouches into one of the seats beside and slightly back from the pilot's.

There's no point in not inquiring now.

The Mandalorian checks course and adjusts the trim.

"I couldn't guess."

Right.

He doesn't ask questions.

Doesn't seem smart, but what does she know about being a bounty hunter?

Nada.

Squat.

Zilch.

She's very out of her depth. That's been true for nearly a year, though she hadn't known it at first.

.

As they continue towards the unknown, Hanna watches quietly while the kid climbs onto a console and stretches onto his stubby toes to reach one clawed hand towards the knob topping the reverse throttle lever. He shouldn't play up here, but he can't kill them if he slips-up with that so she only blinks when he looks at her.

He pauses as they make eye contact, but when no chastisement comes he continues with a determined little wiggle.

She'd nuisanced the Mandalorian a bit the previous night.

Now it's the kid's turn.

He manages to unscrew the knob entirely before the Mandalorian takes note, and Hanna worries she will have to interfere because that could definitely fit in his mouth ... ...

"That's not a toy," the Mandalorian confiscates the silver ball when he sees what the kid's doing.

Then he plucks him up by the back of his robe and extends his arm to plunk him right into Hanna's lap.

He trills quietly in annoyed failure.

"Busted," Hanna commiserates.

.

Soon enough she's not feeling light-hearted enough to be making quips or smiling.

Navaro is in sight and growing larger by the second. It doesn't look like much, but it's terrifying enough in it's blandness.

There's something she should say, surely. A plea she ought to make.

Too bad thought and speech are clogged together in her throat. Making it hard to swallow.

Making it hard to even breathe.

.

Once they shudder to a full stop, that feeling descends straight down into her chest.

It's the beginnings of panic, she thinks.

The kid is garbling in interest and has been ever sense the view before them had grown brighter. Hanna can't look at him for she doesn't share his enthusiasm and isn't sure what to say to him or do for him.

She can't speak, remember.

She's focusing on breathing and that's more than enough at the moment.

"Let's move," the Mandalorian commands once he's got things shut down.

He swings out of his seat like he has zero cares in the galaxy.

Maybe he doesn't.

Hanna watches him pick up his rifle and sling it over his shoudlers before she rises, too, with a sigh.

This is it.

.

"You don't have to do this," she finally forces her voice to do its job as they descend the ramp of his ship toward the rocky earth of this shit hole.

It can only be a shit hole. She's certain of that.

"I would disagree"

She hasn't stopped walking, but he gives her shoulder a firm nudge anyway .Like he knows she's considering doing so.

"At least ...I mean, he's just a kid," she tries another tactic.

Hanna hasn't figured out what the Mandalorian thinks of _her_, but he's so patient with the kid. Not indulgent, really, or affectionate but ...perhaps fond.

"And you owe him."

True that the Mandalorian hadn't explicitly said the kid had saved him. He'd only said that the mudhorn was charging and the kid stopped him. She's filled in the rest of the scene on her own, however. The Mandalorian had been in rough shape - _he hasn't even been able to fix part of his chest plate_ \- so the assumption isn't a difficult leap.

The way the chin of that helmet jerks in her direction tells her she's right even if he'll never say so.

"Hardly."

Lie number one.

She wants to throw those words back in his face but refrains. She's looking for last minute goodwill, after all, not to get backhanded for impudence.

"He hasn't done anything"

"As far as you know"

Hmm. Technically true.

But utter nonsense all the same.

"You could tell them that something happened to him. I'll verify whatever you say," she proposes because half a bounty surely still gets him something. "He's just ..."

What is he?

What is it she's trying to say?

He's _just_...

What?

"You'd sacrifice yourself for him?" the Mandalorian's head tilts curiously.

Yes. Obviously.

That's what she's saying, right?

Hell if she knows why, really. It could be something latent and maternal, but ...

_'He's just...'_

"Yes," she answers anyway.

He considers her but of course all she can see if her reflection in his visor. It's expected and yet deeply frustrating.

"No," h e turns away.

And against her better judgement - _or any judgement, really_ \- she gives him a shove in frustration.

"What's wrong with you? We aren't criminals o-"

Words stick in her throat again when he whirls around and thrusts a finger into her face. Hovers the digit centimeters from her nose.

But no grabbing.

No hitting.

Even though either one would be easy.

"Don't make me shut you up," he hisses at her. "We can still do things hard, but either way ...this is happening."

There it is.

No wiggle room.

No uncertainty in his resolve that she'd been looking for.

This is happening.

"Anything else?" he checks after a few beats pass.

Something burns and squirms inside of Hanna. Something reckless and angry.

Yet she looks around the air field and knows there's nothing else for it. There's nowhere to go. She knows no one here. There is a town in the distance but everything else is rocky and flat, so there's nowhere to hide even if she ran.

So she shakes her head.

.

Reaching the streets of the town is no comfort. The streets are dingy and bare but for scattered groups of people huddled in doorways talking and haggling quietly.

The Mandalorian gets many looks, and Hanna has to wonder if it's because they know him or simply because he's Mandalorian. How small is this place? Does he live here? Or is he just making a delivery?

She doesn't bother to ask. Isn't even sure she actually wants to know.

"Cut it out"

Hanna jumps and then turns a frown to the man beside her. She's not doing anything but panicking, and she's doing that quietly and with as much dignity as possible.

Thank you very much.

"You're stressing the kid..."

Hanna finally lets herself look down on the Mandalorian's other side. Indeed, the kid is sitting forward and craning his neck to get a look at her. His ears are back and his mouth is downturned as if troubled.

Does he dislike this place, too? Or is it as the Mandalorian says; that he sense her own growing unease?

"It's not like I can help it..."

"You could try"

Right. Because he's steady and untroubled. Brave, not some jumble of nerves.

Deep down, she admires that. Could even be comforted by it if he weren't literally the embodiment of her problem right now.

Besides. What if she wants the kid to worry, huh? How would that be? Maybe she wants to see what he'll do. He hasn't exactly proven himself a regularly reliable defender, but if he's the last line of defense then she'll need him agitated, won't she?

A hand wraps around Hanna's wrist and for a moment she thinks wildly that The Mandalorian is trying to hold her hand to console her.

Instead, he pressed a finger into the tendons of her wrist.

"Ah..." she hisses but can't pull away.

His grip is firm but doesn't hurt, exactly. The pressure he's exerting hovers on just the right side of pain while still promising it could hurt _\- will hurt_ \- in a moment.

"If you care about him you'll get it together..." he continues to walk on casually.

"I don't know what's going to happen. It's natural to be anxious..." Hanna maintains.

Because come on.

She's trying. Really.

"Then take a deep breath. Count to ten. Pick a mantra for all I care."

"Don't patronize me," Hanna tries to twist from his grip again.

He curls his finger a bit tighter in warning.

"You don't get it..." he growls.

"Hey," Hanna does manage to dig her heels in and force a brief stop. "You can't tell me nothing and then blame me for not knowing what's happening."

He doesn't move for a moment, pausing in launching them back into movement. More surprisingly, he doesn't crank on her wrist.

"They must care more about him than you," he finally hisses. "If you stir something up, they'll X you out. How will you help him then?"

Hanna's eyes tick a fraction wider.

Partially for fear.

Partially in confusion over why he gives a damn.

She hears what he's saying, but she can't figure out why. What he means.

"..._that_'s what you tell me to get me to calm down?"

A failure if she's ever seen one.

"So you can use your head," he returns and then gives her arm a tug to get them moving again.

He does release her arm, then, which is nice.

But she's still not sure she understands his purpose. He wants her to look after the kid and keep her head down? Yet he's also the one marching her and the kid towards trouble.

He's making less sense than ever.

.

After cutting through a maze of narrower alleys, they come to a stop again at a pale door and the Mandalorian is brandishing some sort of card to be scanned. The camera droid rotates around quickly to take-in the entire group and then retracts back into the wall with a high pitched beep.

They stand in silence for a few minutes.

The kid is eyeing the hatch where the camera had disappeared in apparent amusement.

Hanna's chest is seizing in further dread with each passing moment. Not that she _wants_ the door to open, but the anticipation is killing her.

.

When the door does slide upward, Hanna gasps involuntarily and takes a wavering step backwards.

Stormtroopers.

"Cuff the woman," one throws a set of manacles at the Mandalorian to emphasize his demand.

Hanna can feel the Mandalorian's grasp as he takes a hold of one of her arms to do as they've said, but she's numb to it as she processes what she's seeing. She doesn't even look down until metal clanks against metal and he's twisting the cold cuff tighter on one of her wrists. Still shocked, she mutely watches him tighten the second half on her other wrist before speaking.

"What're they doing here?"

He doesn't answer but turns back to the white-clad guards.

"Easy with that..."

There's something of a growl in his tone again and Hanna looks to see one of the Stormtroopers has yanked the bassinet forward to get a look at the kid, tilting it precariously in the process.

A chilling sight to see it so close to the poor kid.

"You take it easy," the other trooper grunts and then takes hold of the chain between Hanna's cuffs to yank her over the threshold, too.

She resists the manhandling _\- natural reaction anyone would have, she's sure_ \- and gets a huff and another stiff pull in retaliation. The metal cuffs aren't forgiving on the delicate skin of her wrists so she forces herself to follow despite her distaste for their chaperones.

The Mandalorian brings up the rear of the group.

Hanna looks over her shoulder at him _\- to anyone familiar - _but he doesn't turn to meet her eye if he notices. Or at least he doesn't do so visibly.

He simply keeps moving forward.

For lack of choice, Hanna does too.

.

The room they enter is wide and low-ceilinged with minimal lighting. There are also a couple more Stormtroopers.

In a word, it's imposing.

.

There are two men in the room whose faces are showing, but that doesn't make them welcoming hosts. In fact, they offer no greeting at all as they come forward.

True the Mandalorian's claim, they show the most glee over in the kid.

The two men draw closer and hunker in to talk lowly to one another over the bassinet. The kid just blinks at them curiously, but his ears are down in caution and he doesn't seem happy for meeting these new faces.

Hanna's breath hitches when the bespectacled man pulls something from his pocket and points it at the baby, but it turns out just to be a device for a full body scan. The worst that happens to the kid is that he must squint away when the red light shines into his large eyes.

"Your assessment, Dr. Pershing?" the older man checks.

"He is very healthy..."

"Excellent," the man smiles and turns his attention straight to the Mandalorian. "Your reputation is well-earned, it seems."

The Mandalorian gives no response to the praise, and the old man doesn't seem perturbed by it.

Clearly they have met before.

Hanna starts when the med scanner is pointed into her face next. She flinches even though it doesn't hurt and bats the thing away.

All that earns her is a small shove from one of the Stormtroopers and then the doctor is back at it. Scanning her from head to toe.

"Healthy," he reports.

She couldn't told him that.

But she supposes the confirmation is nice.

"And here we worried we may not even get one of you ...he manages both," the old man does spare his gaze for Hanna now that she's made herself known. "Hanna Imbar. Born to Adelia Imbar of Coruscant. Of no note to us until you ran from Castilon. The child found you there, yes?"

Hanna can't quite answer.

She's too shocked to hear this. That they _know_ her.

Somehow she had imagined herself to be a nameless participant in all of this. A stranger caught up in something even stranger. Though now that she sees there's clearly some Imperial connection, she supposes it shouldn't be surprising that this man can spout facts about her.

Yet it is.

"Yes," he continues sagely without input from her. "And how was that, I wonder?" the man stalks closer to eye her closely. Questioningly. "How are you connected?"

Hanna's dark eyes flash around his face to try to read him. To decipher whether this is a rhetorical question and he already has an answer to give.

"We're not," she declares when he says no more.

"...perhaps," he seems mildly agreeable to this. "Or maybe you are sensitive to him."

Sensitive to him.

Meaning...

What, exactly?

He doesn't go on.

"I'm not," Hanna decides.

She doesn't know, of course - _she suddenly feels that she knows very little_. But he sounds a little too hopeful about the prospect.

So she's not.

She's sensitive to nothing.

And there's nothing special about the kid.

Except they've been hunting him, so there's no point in stretching that lie. They already know about him. At the very least, they know that there is something interesting to know about him.

"We will see about that," he grins a little bit.

It is decidedly not a nice smile.

"...how?" her stomach clenches because she's sure she doesn't want to know.

But he seems to have answers and she's desperately looking for some.

"Dr. Pershing is what we will call a specialist," he answers next to nothing. "And if you are merley the random indentured woman you claim to be, perhaps we will call your proprietor. Baevis Montol runs a busy refueling station ...I'm sure he misses his docks being fully-staffed, don't you?"

Hanna's shoulders stiffen, and she thinks she detects movement in her peripheral. She refuses to check whether the Mandalorian has taken interest in this tidbit because the old man, despite his calm demeanor, feels dangerous. She doesn't want to look away for the creeping fear of him.

"...I'm sure I've been replaced by now," she offers when he seems to be awaiting a reply.

He grins again.

"So easily replaced, are you?"

He doesn't wait for an answer on that one and backs away so he can round the thick table behind him.

.

"To the winner go the spoils. Is that not what they say?" he's addressing the Mandalorian again before he hefts a white bucket up onto his desk.

The Mandalorian steps forward without hesitation.

His reward.

Hanna's morbidly pleased to get to stay for this.

She's curious what they're worth.

But when he opens the container, Hanna's not sure what she's seeing. Silver bars of some sort. A currency she has never seen. A valuable one based on the way the Mandalorian has picked one up to survey it.

"Such a large bounty for an unassuming package, yes?" the old man smirks with supreme smugness.

Jerk.

"...I didn't have the only tracking fob," the Mandalorian accuses, looking up from his prize.

"Ah. Yes. The bounty was of the utmost importance - I had to be sure it would be returned to me. I trust I have made it worth your while..."

It hasn't been worth Hanna's while. But no one's asking her.

.

Before the Mandalorian can respond with how satisfied he is or isn't, she's distracted by Dr. Pershing plucking the kid from his bassinet and walking away with him cradled on his elbow.

Like this stranger cares about him.

Like he's _allowed_.

Hanna takes a step as if to follow, but a strong grip on her shoulder stops her. She finds white, armored glove there.

Stormtrooper.

Party pooper.

She feels a little panicky that she can't follow after the kid, who's making a displeased little whine when the door shuts behind the doctor. It settles heavily into her gut, the pull to follow after him and make sure he's alright. She stares at the door, willing it to open. Willing someone to march her off through it, too.

.

"What are your plans for it?"

Surprise pulls Hanna's mind back to the room she's actually inhabiting.

Because the Mandalorian's asking a question.

A moment of silence ticks past them all.

.

"How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation," the old man responds evenly, though perhaps an octave lower than he'd spoken before. "You have taken both commission and payment. Is it not the code of your Guild that these events are now forgotten?"

Guild?

Better yet: _forgotten_?

"No," Hanna talks over whatever response the Mandalorian may be planning. "You don't get to forget this!"

"Shut up," the Stormtrooper next to her yanks her away from the scene by her shackles.

"No!" she has no way to break his hold but twists around as much as she can to glare at the Mandalorian. "This happened! We're real!"

They aren't criminals.

Whatever is waiting for them isn't _justice_.

It's ...it's ...

She's not sure.

But it's not right, and he doesn't get to take payment and pretend it's not happening.

"Take her away!" the old man barks.

The Stormtrooper pulls on the chain between her cuffs, but she wrenches her weight backwards on it. Moments ago she had wanted to follow after the kid, but if the Mandalorian's asking questions she'll answer them.

Their plans for the kid? They're _bad._

She can tell.

They must be.

"He's just a kid!" she stresses this again. "What happened back there was real and - stop it!" she squirms wildly against the arm that wraps around her waist.

"Enough!" the old man barks in her direction.

"We don't deserve this!"

She's lifted from the ground so she kicks wildly behind her. The Trooper's legs are armored, of course, so she's likely not causing him much pain. Just making him stumble a bit.

But it's enough and her feet drop back to the floor.

"That happened; you don't just get to forget -" she grunts when she's shoved downward now and slams a knee into the cement floor. "You can't-"

There's a sharp pain on her skull and her vision tunnels black at the edges.

Then fades entirely.

* * *

The Mandalorian watches with impassive stillness as one of the Stormtrooper's pistol-whips the brunette with the butt of his blaster and she slumps limply to the ground.

No one catches her.

He'd seen that hit coming, so no habitualized instinct to guard his mark spurs him to action.

He stays rooted to the spot as the same Trooper scoops under her arms and drags her off after the doc.

No one grabs her feet.

None of it's surprising.

Run your mouth like that after you've been told 'no' and someone's going to do something.

Not that anything she had said was incorrect, per se.

It's just that no one in present company had wanted her to say it.

And yet ...

The door shuts behind the Trooper and the woman.

Everyone is looking at him, now.

A thing he is long accustomed to.

"I should think this Beskar is more than enough to occupy you - to make a handsome replacement for your armor," the Client breaks the silence.

He says nothing in return.

The client is right, but it's none of the man's business what he will or won't do with his reward.

"Unfortunate that these days it is harder to locate a Mandalorian than it is the steel to armor him..."

Bold of him to assume any Mandalorian of note must be a man.

Even so, the underlying threat is noted and filed away. It is ultimately of very little concern, however.

"...if the girl still interests you, come back in a few days. We may no longer need her."

Stoicism can be very educational. For instance, he has found that when you stay quiet long enough others tend to keep talking, if only to fill the silence.

The Client is no different.

It's interesting to know that he had been right in his assumptions about the child being of greatest importance, but this thing the Client is implying simply won't happen.

And yet...

Behind the visor, he glances towards the door where both of the assets had disappeared.

'_What happened back there was real!'_

Obviously.

Yet her words are plucking at something that has already been making a home in his head. Something that is setting up shop next to his wrath for the Empire and bumping into his particular sense of justice. Something atypically curious. Something mutinous.

Something better left ignored, in other words.

"Is that all?" he's more than ready to leave this place.

"Of course"

The Client closes the container holding the stacked beskar and then steps away. It's as much of in an invitation as he's going to get.

He grabs it and slowly turns to go. I f the two Troopers behind him thought he hadn't noticed them pincer-in to block the door earlier, they are sorely mistaken.

He waits for them to get a signal from their boss. Watches them step aside.

Once they're out of his way, he's gone.

Beskar safely in tow.

.

* * *

_And I leave you with a little glimpse into the Mandalorian's head. _

_Until next time :]_


	7. Before and after

_Hey all, hope you're healthy and safe and sane out there. _

_Take care of yourselves. _

* * *

**Ch. 7: Before and after**

The decision to go back is a simple one.

In that once he decides to do it he doesn't let himself hesitate or second-guess. No. He moves. He knows what steps he has to take, and he knows the most efficient way to do it.

He does what needs to be done.

The fact that this change of plans is dangerous and will undermine his position in the Guild...well, that part is not quite so simple.

But that factor does matter less.

Less than what is right.

.

And he knows this is right because ...well because he knows.

He knows it in a clear and solid way even if the reasons aren't ones he could easily put in words.

Like the way he knows when he's being tailed. And can predict a threat in a room. Or the way he had intuited when some "struggling" hunters weren't on the level, later finding they were in fact flesh traffickers selling-off bounties in a different and untoward way. And how he knows he'd lay his life down for the foundlings of his covert, even the ones whose names he hasn't learned.

He just knows. Intuition. A gut feeling. A sixth sense. Call it what you will.

.

He'd been taught to follow a Creed and trained to trust his instinct.

And his gut says innocent.

.

So maybe he'd always known he would have to go back, that he'd need to listen to his gut. To the throbbing doubt he'd been feeling. A niggling thought he'd tried not to examine. The one the woman must have sensed in some measure, for she'd valiantly tried to prod at it. She'd held out on pleading - _longer than many bounties, at any rate_ \- but in the end they all made a last-ditch effort in some way.

And hers ...had more or less been on the money.

.

He has made a living of returning bounties and letting others sort out details. Sure he has turned down a job here and there, but he rarely fancies himself judge and jury.

Still. There are exceptions to almost every rule.

Innocent.

So, suffice to say he is clear-headed by the time he's breaking back into the Client's safe house. He certainly isn't sorry to lay waste to Imperial troopers.

_'We've got you four to one_,' he remembers one mocking him last time.

Whatever, Hutt-spawn. Been there, done that, escaped worse.

Next.

There are more than four of them now, however, so it takes him a few tense minutes to get where he needs to go.

.

He finds the girl first. She's unconscious - _still? Surely not. Again? Seems more likely_ \- and lain on a stretcher. Her hands are still cuffed and rest at her waist, and there's an IV connected to her arm.

He rips that out with little preamble and shoves his gloved thumb roughly against the weeping wound that results.

Neither move stirs her, which is admittedly a complication. He had banked on her being a conscious participant, and history had told him she would be a particularly eager partner in this escape. A thing he would likely need.

But if that can't be, he'll figure something out.

"Hey," he shakes her shoulder and flicks her cheek a few times. "Hey..."

A bit of a heartier slap to her cheek gets a grunt but nothing more.

Time being of the essence, he starts hauling her right off the stretcher.

This needs to be a blitz, not a drawn-out show.

Stay swift. Keep moving. That's what he needs. Hiccups can only be brief.

* * *

Everything's fuzzy.

Her thoughts ...they're not right.

.

She's aware that something's wrong but she can't piece it all together yet. Doesn't know what to fix.

What should she be doing?

.

It would be nice if she could open her eyes.

She knows that she ought to. Knows it would help...something.

She's not happy.

But she's not sure _why_...

It's as though she's outside her body, and maybe she is. Or maybe she has no body at all. She's only thought and feeling and darkness and ...

.

_No_. She's moving.

She's definitely moving, though she isn't convinced that she should be.

.

Sensation.

Someone's definitely touching her.

She's panicking, then. Some sort of incomplete memory telling her that this is undesirable. Bad, even.

_Unsafe_.

.

Hanna comes-to in a flurry of confusion. Her brain doesn't process any of the input it's receiving fast enough for her to get a read on her surroundings, so she only has her last thoughts to act on.

Undesirable.

Unsafe.

So she moves against the hands on her. Thrashes about. Shoves ineffectually at what's before her.

"Hey!"

She knows that voice, and she somehow knows this can only be a bad thing.

"Cut it out!"

Pain zings across her hands and someone grabs her face to control her focus. To direct her gaze up. Her eyes dance wildly over a face. Trying to decide where to land. Determining what she's seeing.

Not a face.

It's a...

_Oh_.

She does know that voice.

She knows the mask in front of her.

"You're here?"

It doesn't feel right even as she says it

"Yes"

Her jaw is released and the pain in her hands subsides. Her gaze falls to them and she sees the cuffs on her wrists; he must have pulled on them.

He'd put them there, too, right?

This isn't right...

"You're here..."

She scans back up over him.

Yes it's the Mandalorian. But hadn't he gone? Actually ...no. She has no proof of that. The last memory she can call forth of him is of her yelling...

"Where's the kid?"

The kid!

Even as she wonders whether she knows the answer to his question, she's raising her hands to point at the door in the corner.

Another room. Another lab. She knows she's been in there even though she can't quite recall what had happened.

"We need to move."

Right. Leaving is good. So why is she just sitting there?

.

Hanna shimmies off of the bench she's on, and her knees immediately buckle upon landing on the floor. A tight hand on her elbow catches her, and she grabs the bed for stability while she takes a few deep breaths.

"Can you walk?"

"Yes," her answer is quicker than it has any right to be.

She just doesn't want to get left behind.

But she assesses her body the best she can and thinks that her answer is true. She straightens up from the bed to prove it. A moment later the hand supporting her is gone.

The shine on his helmet flickers as the Mandalorian ticks his head in acceptance.

"Stay very close to me"

Hanna nods and invites herself to fist a hand in his cape when he turns away. There's no way she's losing this lifeline out of here.

Her feet feel week and her legs clumsy as she follows him, but she keeps up and that's all she cares about: not getting left behind.

.

When the door to the next lab opens and they're met with blaster fire, Hanna takes the Mandalorian's words a little closer to heart. He is the one with the weapons and the armor, after all, so she ducks in closer to his back.

"No no no! Please don't hurt him! He's just a child!"

Child!

Hanna peeks around the Mandalorian to see Dr. Probably-dead-soon huddled next to a table where the kid lays unmoving under a scanner. She moves as if to go to him, but the Mandalorian throws an arm out and pushes her back again.

"What did you do to him?"

Good question.

"Nothing!"

That doesn't seem true, though Hanna's not sure.

"Nothing, I protected him!" - seems even less likely. "I advocated for his life! They wanted to bring him back dead - they didn't care!"

Hmm.

"Is that true?"

It's a moment before Hanna realizes that the Mandalorian's chin is ticked slightly closer to his shoulder. He's talking to _her_. Checking.

"I'm ...I don't remember.

True.

But distressing to admit.

Rather than make a full commitment to trusting the doctor or not, the Mandalorian shoots him in the foot. The man screams but muffles himself quickly by clasping both hands over his mouth.

Perhaps he knows full well that he's lucky to be alive.

.

The kid's unconscious, which makes Hanna's heart hurt, but the Mandalorian swipes him right up. They don't have time to try to wake him. No time to try to read the machines that had been scanning him.

The Mandalorian just shoots said scanner and continues moving through the room.

Hanna remains his shadow. She'd only been given one order _\- a wise simplicity given that her synapses are still coming online a little slow_ \- and she's sticking to it.

.

She also valiantly doesn't fall on her ass when the Mandalorian reels back around a corner after he takes a blast to his shoulder guard.

She'll need to pat herself on the back for that feat later because now the kid is being shoved into her hands.

"Don't drop him."

"I-"

No. Yeah. That's a legitimate concern given the state of her.

She curls her arms around him the best she can to show herself capable. She knows it's to all of their benefit that the Mandalorian have both hands free.

That's especially true when he proves to have a flame thrower hidden in one of his vambraces.

It's wild.

Kind of scary.

Hanna makes a mental note that maybe he shouldn't be allowed to hold the kid with that hand in the future.

.

She both keeps hold of the child and sticks close to the Mandalorian as they proceed down a large, dimly lit hall. Eventually they move into a larger room with a wide desk.

It seems familiar.

'_Is it not the code of your Guild that these events are now forgotten_?'

Clearly not.

But the memory of that voice sends a child down Hanna's spine.

And just as she's processing how much she wants to leave the room and never look back, Troopers pour in from every entry way.

Kriff.

"Wait!" the Mandalorian shouts and raises his arms. "What she's holding is incredibly valuable!"

He reaches back to curl an arm around Hanna's shoulders and pull her forward so that she's in front of him. It's not exactly a welcome role-reversal.

"Put it down," one Trooper barks.

"Slowly!" another adds.

The Mandalorian has a hand on her shoulder, and he doesn't seem to be trying to indicate that she do something different so she obeys. He follows her down to her knees. Surrendering. Not a thing that feels right for the Mandalorian's wheelhouse, but apparently some things are just inevitable.

It had been nice to be hopeful even if it isn't going to last.

"Don't set him down," the Mandalorian is close enough that he's talking into her ear.

Hanna had been centimeters away from doing just that, but she scoops him back up to her chest at these words. She doesn't even hesitate, not when it was exactly what she'd wanted to do anyway.

Then there's a warm weight pressed to her back and a high whistling in her ears. A few orangish lights streak through their air for a few seconds before the room falls silent again.

One beat passes.

And multiple bodies slump to the floor.

"What-"

"We've moving," the hand still on her shoulder grabs at the fabric of her shirt to pull her back up.

Then she's shoved behind the Mandalorian again. Not gently. But she can't bring herself to be grumpy about it. It's not as though she wants to be the first one around the next corner.

.

But the last hall to the exist is blissfully clear.

.

She finds that it is late when they get outdoors. The streets are mostly dark, and the Mandalorian capitalizes on this. Sticks to the shadows near the buildings as they beat a path through town.

"Do you hear that?" the Mandalorian only speaks again after steering them around a building and into the dark alleyway behind it.

Hanna listens for voices or running footsteps or blaster fire.

She hears none of the above.

She's about to tell him so when she hears a faint, distant beeping instead.

"Is-"

"Hunters," the Mandalorian explains and takes the child from her arms to tuck into his elbow. "Give me your hands."

She does so and watches him pull a knife from a strap at his thigh. It shines more than normal and then hums as it begins to vibrate. A vibro-blade. She's seen one before and so isn't shocked when he's able to cut straight through the relatively-thin chain linking her handcuffs.

"So...do they know what you did?"

"Apparently," the Mandalorian looks over his shoulder and then past Hanna's own to make sure they have the time for this pitstop.

Then he starts wiggling the robe off of the kid, who squeaks quietly. They both freeze to look down and see those dark eyes squinting open at them. Hanna had felt him breathing while she held him, but seeing a more active sign of life is a relief all the same.

He coos at them and her lips actually twitch into an aborted attempt at smiling.

The Mandalorian makes quick work of getting the robe the rest of the way off and then shoves the kid back at Hanna wearing only his thin beige tunic.

"What're you..." but Hanna trails off as she watches him bundle up the fabric and tuck it into his crooked arm.

Like he's carrying something.

Like he has the kid.

But she has the kid, so what's she supposed to do with him?

"Do you remember what my ship looks like?

Sure she does. She's stared at it stranded in the desert enough, hadn't she?

She nods.

"Good. We're near the West gateway to the shipyard. You're going to stick to this alley while I take the street," he pauses to look around again and Hanna hears it to - _more beeps, slightly mis-timed from one another. _"It's going to get loud. When it does, cut left out of the alley and get out through the gate."

"B-"

"The ramps down," he overrides her. "Lock it up. No one can get in but me."

"Wh-"

"Straight to the ship. Don't wait. Don't stop," he orders and then pulls a plaster from a leg strap. "Shoot anyone who's not me."

He doesn't wait for a retort and reaches his arms around her to tuck the gun into the back of her pants. It's presumptuous, but she doesn't care; she's clutching the kid tight enough that it probably would've taken her a few moments to be convinced to let go and take the gun herself. She even lets herself pretend for a second that it's a hug because she's pretty sure she could use a hug.

Though if it were it would be the world's _worst_ hug. Jerky and perfunctory in the most clinical and dutiful of ways.

"Go."

And that's that. He rearranges the robe in the crook of his elbow again and then disappears without further instruction or time for debate.

New orders. Go to the ship.

Alright.

.

Her heart's pounding out of time with the faint beeping that is echoing around the nearby streets.

From behind.

From the left.

From above, it seems.

From every nook and cranny of the alley, Hanna is half sure of it.

She does her best to move slowly and stick to the shadows like the Mandalorian had been doing on the last streets. For a while she catches glimpses of the Mandalorian between buildings as they travel parallel to one another.

It's reassuring, but that doesn't last.

He had said it would get loud.

And it does.

.

So she slows down and creeps her way towards the end of the alley with crashing and blasters firing raging in her ears. She's concerned stray fire will find its way into the alley and end their progress. Scared a Stormtrooper will appear to block her path.

Neither happens.

The Mandalorian's plan works. The hunters are so focused on him and his treachery that they are sure he's carrying the kid without actually seeing it.

Still. It's loud.

And overwhelming.

It's a lot.

.

So maybe she hesitates a while at the mouth of the alley.

She can see the wide entry/egress point where pilots can come and go from the shipyard, but from there she can also see some of the melee up the streets. That's how close the firefight is.

There is only open space between her and the exit. What if she draws attention? She won't be protected by brick or sheltered by shadow.

Hannah glances down at the kid cradled against her chest. Whose little fingers are curled into her shirt looking for security while he blinks up at her. Expectantly. And with trust.

She can't stay here.

_'Don't wait. Don't stop.'_

"Okay, okay, okay..." she speaks down towards the kid, but its herself she's trying to reassure.

Because she can do this.

She can.

.

Most likely.

.

It seems as though she flees at an apropos time, for the tumult somehow kicks up a notch behind her as she slips out of the gate and takes off at a run.

She remembers the general distance they'd come into town from. Trusts that the Mandalorian hasn't come and gone already since then.

Adrenaline's still coursing a hot trial through all of her limbs but she feels a little more hopeful the further she's able to retreat from the city. A little bit lighter. A little more _sure_.

Until a hulking form sidles out of the shadows between ships several dozen meters ahead of her.

Hanna skids to a stop, nearly falling with the way she tries to halt her momentum.

_'Shoot anyone who's not me_'

She pulls the blaster from her back with a speed that surprises her given that only her subconscious mind had remembered it was there and ready to use.

But he'd told her what to do, right?

So she holds the gun aloft.

.

Except that when the figure hits the glow of a flood light ...she thinks she's found an exception to his demands.

Maybe.

Probably.

...hopefully.

The chest and shoulders of the person are wide-set in a familiar sort of way, and light reflects off of a helmet that could be cousins with the one she's grown used to staring into. The figure freezes for a moment when the gun is raised in their direction, but when no shot comes they continue forward at a slow gate.

For good measure, Hanna takes a few of her own steps backwards.

She can't _know_ that a second Mandalorian on this planet is friends with the only other one that she knows.

But it's a pretty big coincidence otherwise.

"Who are you?" an accented and distinctly feminine voice questions. Still moving slowly, yet still not reaching a distance that feels intrusive.

"No one," Hanna promises in a way that sounds pathetic.

She squeezes the kid a little closer and he squeaks. It almost startles her and she shakes her arm lightly to try to shush him.

"That seems unlikely"

"I ..." Hanna tries but realizes she has nothing to say to that.

She's not sure what it means. Isn't sure what this woman wants or what she's interested in.

"Go," she announces. "I will cover you."

What the?

Hanna gapes.

Then lowers the gun and runs.

You don't look a gift bantha in the mouth. Not if you're smart, anyway

.

No ship had ever looked as sweet as The Razor Crest while she clambers and clanks up its thick ramp. It only takes a couple seconds of wildly looking to locate the lever to raise the ramp. Once it hisses shut she depresses the lock, as well.

.

Then she can sigh in relief.

They aren't off the rock but there's also minimal chance of a stray shot taking either of them out.

The child coos like he can feel the shift in safety, too.

.

Once her breathing evens out, Hanna can't help but think it's _too_ quiet in the ship. Going straight from chaos to near-silence is almost as eerie as being in the thick of it.

It's paranoia talking, she knows that.

Regardless, she starts rifling through cabinets and shuts the kid into the first one she finds that is mostly empty.

He squeaks in dismay, of course.

"Just for a minute," she tells him and hopes that it's true.

.

Hanna twists around and leans heavily against the wall of shelves and cupboards. Fear is keeping her alert, but she's tired. There's no denying that.

But she waits patiently.

Unmoving in the quiet of the ship.

She has half a mind to head up to the cockpit and see if there is anything of note to see, but she keeps her vigil for now. Trying not to wonder what will become of them if the Mandalorian doesn't make it out of town. Doesn't want to torture herself imagining how long it would take someone to break into the ship. The Mandalorian has sounded confident that only he could get in, but surely something with enough time and enough tools could do it. The Jawas had done it, after all.

And who had the other Mandalorian been? Could she somehow count on more help from her? Assuming she could locate the woman again, of course...

Because they're stuck if he doesn't make it back to them. Hanna is a lot of things, but she's not a pilot.

.

A beep followed by mechanical whirring tells her when the ship has been unlocked. Since it happens quick, she lets herself assume it's the Mandalorian she's waiting for.

Still, the ramp's descent must be the slowest one in history.

She lets out a long breath when her only certain ally comes stomping up.

But she's not going to cry. No, no. Not when he's just gone well out of his way to rescue them. She can't prove herself to be weak now.

"Thank the maker," she simply sighs and drops her head back.

"Where's the kid?" he demands and makes short work of the space between her and the entrance.

"Hiding. Don't worry, he's -"

"Hold it right there, Mando!"

Hanna's head jerks right back up to find another man slowly ascending the ramp into the ship.

Her jaw drops.

So much for relaxing.

The Mandalorian, as instructed, doesn't move.

"Drop that and let's see your hands. Come on...there you go..."

The Mandalorian does drop his blaster and raises that hand before turning nice and slow. His other arm is still carrying the wadded-up robe.

"Still have your gift?" he asks as he turns.

Gift?

She thinks of Kuiil and the supplies he'd sent them away with before her fingers flex around the gun still held loosely in her hand.

_Well, kriff. _

That was technically a gift, too.

"The road ends here, my friend..."

Hanna remembers this voice as belonging to the man who'd sent a holo-message to the Mandalorian the morning they had arrived on Navarro. His boss, she had assumed. Are they truly friends?

Or ...ex-friends, given the scene before her.

"There, now... give. Me. That. Child."

"And if I do?" the Mandalorian checks. "What about us?"

The man chuckles.

"Let's not pretend you're in any position to try to strike a deal with me."

"Aren't I?" he cocks his helmet, then looks toward Hanna. "Aren't we?"

Hanna tightens her hand.

She's not sure what his plan is, exactly, but something is happening.

"That's enough," the man has reached the top of the ramp and doesn't seem inclined to play games. "Put it down and walk backwards."

The Mandalorian is still staring Hanna's way but turns slowly back toward his once-boss.

"Alright..."

He drops his arm and lets the robe slither open and fall empty to the ground. The other man's gaze drops with it for a moment, and his jaw drops slack, too.

Hanna raises her arm and shoots.

A bit blindly, she has to admit - _she's no ace_.

So it is something of a surprise when it lands him square in the chest and he flies backwards down the ramp.

"Holy shit..."

The ramp begins to retract again at a command from the Mandalorian, completely cutting off her chance to get a look at what she had just done.

Hanna slumps against the wall again and slowly slides down along it to sit.

"Nice shot," the Mandalorian looms over her.

"Uh-huh..."

She's still not crying because: stubbornness. But her eyes are wetter than they should be. Threaten to dampen her eyelids.

"The kid?"

Hanna blinks.

Nods.

She twists and fumbles to open one of the latches to her left so she can flick the cabinet open. The kid yowls gleefully in response to this small freedom. The Mandalorian rewards this by squatting down to pull him out and inspect him.

Once satisfied, he turns his attention to Hanna again.

"Gun?"

She hands it back, and before he can draw away completely she grabs his forearm. Squeezes it when she feels him tense as if he's ready to pull away. He's definitely ready to pull away.

"Thank you," she stares into his visor and can only hope they're making eye contact.

She looks from him to the kid, and then back up to him again. Wants to say more except then she might get teary and she's already decided not to. Plus, she feels that he probably doesn't want flowery words.

Case in point, he only nods in acceptance of her gratitude.

Then he's suddenly standing and her hand falls away.

Only when she sees him reach the ladder to get to the cockpit does it all come back to her in a rush.

That they still have to _go_. They're not home free yet.

She scuttles to her feet to follow him. The only thing she pauses to do is snatch the kid's robe off the floor.

.

When she reaches the cockpit, the Mandalorian has discarded the kid in one of the spare seats in order to fire his console to life and get to work on their take-off. He's happy to be picked up so that Hanna can sit there instead and settle him into her lap. He cozies himself close to her stomach while she buckles in.

She can't exactly blame him as his tunic is pretty thin.

"Here you go..." she gets him situated back in the warmer clothing and when she's finished they are already rising into the air.

The kid starts to chirp excitedly as she cuffs his sleeves, drawing her gaze to the viewer.

"Whoa..."

As they rise they get a look back at the fight still raging below. Some part of Hanna had assumed it was over since the Mandalorian had returned, but that is clearly not so.

Do they even realize that their target is gone?

She jerks in surprise when a body rises into view a few meters from the Razor Crest. A Mandalorian, clearly. One who is flying independently of any ship with some kind of ...jet pack?

"That's..." Hanna trails off, unsure what to think of this as the figure salutes them.

Well. Not _her_, surely. It salutes the Mandalorian beside her.

"Yes," the Mandalorian answers her unfinished comment and raises a hand in thanks.

"Are ...are there more down there?" Hanna points at the receding streaks of red below them that look quite familiar to the jet pack they'd just seen in action.

"Yes"

"...how many?"

That one he doesn't answer. Just punches more buttons.

"But they came to help you?"

"Mm. Yes."

"Wow... ...wow, did you call them or something?"

It was no wonder he had walked head-on into the hunters without question.

"No."

Oh. Well.

"... ...so they just came?"

"Yes"

"... ...but why?"

He is one of them, sure. But how did they even know he was in trouble? Were they his friends? Family, maybe? How had they known he was in trouble? And why had the woman she ran into helped her, too? How could she have known she was associated with one of them? Were they watching?

The Mandalorian doesn't say anything for a while as he steers them into the pitch black and (for now) safety of space.

"...inaction is next to sin," he finally offers the briefest explanation possible.

It doesn't answer all of the questions she has, but she's still pleased that he'd shared.

"That's ...amazing."

It's more than that but she can't pick the best words right now.

"It's The Way."

Hanna doesn't know what that means, but he doesn't go on.

She remembers him commenting to Kuiil that weapons are part of his religion. So maybe there's some kind of rule about coming to each other's aid. Maybe it's simply their way to defend one other. To always fight together.

Which is kind of ...beautiful.

Not that she says so. The description doesn't really mesh with the intimidating aura of a Mandalorian.

"I met one back there," Hanna informs him, though maybe _met _is a strong word for the run-in. "She scared me, but that's why I already had the blaster out earlier..."

The Mandalorian's head whips in her direction, startling her.

"You said anyone who wasn't you should ...I didn't shoot at her!" she promises, sensing heat from his gaze even though the thought of her getting the jump on a Mandalorian is probably laughable. "She just came out of nowhere..."

"And?" he prods uncharacteristically.

"Nothing really. She said she would cover me, asked who I was..."

"What did you tell her?"

Hanna takes a moment to appreciate that this is the fullest conversation they've ever had. It's not exactly pleasant, but it is at least two-sided.

"That I was no one," Hanna looks out at the stars, smiling tiredly because she's grateful to see them again.

It's kind of a depressing statement to repeat, but it had been the truth.

She's no one to that woman.

She sees the Mandalorian shift in her peripheral and turns to find him staring across at her again. Level. Unmoving.

None of the perceived heat she'd felt before, so that's an improvement.

"What?"

He remains unmoving for another moment more, then drops his gaze.

"I'll get us on a route and then gets those off..."

He's looking at her hands. Hanna looks down at the cuffs still clamped to her wrists. She hadn't forgotten them - _they bite at her skin painfully_ \- but once he'd cut the chain to allow her more movement they had dropped on the list of her priorities.

"Thanks..."

.

As she comes down from the adrenaline high, she falls into a near stupor. Mesmerized by the stars. Lulled by the feeling of the kid breathing against her and the light clicks of the Mandalorian going about his business.

"...Hanna?"

She starts at the sound of her name and straightens where she sits. Looking into the visor to her left, she has the vague impression he'd said something else, but she can't be certain.

"I wasn't sure you were awake..."

She nods since she clearly is and watches him twist his chair around to face her.

"Hands," he holds one of his own out expectantly.

He's fishing in his belt with the other. As she adjusts the kid in her lap to free a hand, she wonders if the virbo-blade is going to make an appearance. If this is going to be a hack-job and she's at risk of losing a hand.

Somehow she doesn't think hack-jobs are his specialty. He'd too plotted.

Indeed, a small, fine blade is pulled from his belt before he takes hold of a couple of her fingers to guide her hand closer to him. He rests her palm on his thigh guard for stability and holds her forearm down in a gloved hand to ensure she's still. Then he uses the thin tool to slip into the lock and start deftly pressing this way and that.

He's not looking at what he's doing. He's looking slightly to the side based on the lean of his head.

Listening, she realizes.

He's waiting to hear the mechanism move into place, so she keeps quiet and still.

When it comes, she hears it, too. A faint _'tink'_ and then the Mandalorian can twist the cuff loose and peel it open. Hanna flinches as he does, for it rubs across abused skin.

She remembers she hadn't stayed still when conscious back at the lab. Hadn't wanted an exam. Had tried to make it hard for the doctor to get a blood sample. Had wanted to get to the kid when she heard him crying. The cuffs have bruised and scraped her, and her fingers are a mess of scratches, too. In the end her efforts had failed, but at least she'd made things a little harder. She hadn't noticed the pain too much at the time - _scared as she was_ -but her wrists ache now.

"Do you know that's the first time you said my name?" she asks to distract herself while the Mandalorian tosses aside the broken handcuff.

She receives his ever-blank stare in return. Maybe he hadn't noticed. She hadn't even really taken note of it until he'd done it.

"You never said it before..."

Before he'd left them. Abandoned them. Before he'd possibly aided the Empire.

There's some bitterness in that fact, obviously ...but he'd come back. He's helping them escape at a personal cost she doesn't fully understand yet.

So maybe that matters more.

"Yes, well... you were a job."

Okay. So he _had_ noticed. It had been intentional.

It's a little dehumanizing, but objectively she can see that's probably the whole point. She even understands, to a measure. He deals _\- dealt? - _in criminals, and there had probably never been space for a bleeding heart.

But he's speaking past-tense. Something's different, now. He doesn't define exactly what he thinks that is or what he plans they'll be doing next, but it's clear that was _before_.

So this is after.

Whatever that means.

"What's your name?" she figures that's fair now.

But he only gives her silence.

Alright. So that's not a thing yet.

Roger that.

.

She gives over her other hand rather than make a whole thing of it.

"I have bacta packed away somewhere to help close these up," he comments before inserting the blade again and leaning-in to listen.

Which isn't a name.

But it's a gift anyway.


	8. Big little efforts

**I hope all of you are well. **

**Thanks for the reviews/favorite. I'm glad people here are enjoying. **

* * *

**Chapter 8: **Big little efforts

Being back up in space still doesn't quite feel real yet.

The sedatives are out of Hanna's system so, yes, she's cogent. But she'd spent a week knowing she was getting closer and closer to come dark fate, so the abrupt about-face is a little hard to accept.

Or at least hard to trust.

So surely they're going to be attacked at any moment. Shot out of the sky. Or maybe the Mandalorian will simply change his mind. A couple days of floating in space with two more mouths to feed (albeit one very small) and no imminent payday could probably do that to a person.

.

So she's jut a little ...hesitant.

She's quiet.

Tip-toeing.

Watching and feeling things out.

Unlike the kid, who has rebounded spectacularly. He seems beside himself with glee to be back on the ship. He has re-explored every inch allowed and has even managed to convince the Mandalorian to give him full-time custody of that reverse accelerator knob.

He's been eyeing more of the buttons and levers greedily when in the cockpit and will probably launch a new campaign to own one as soon as he chooses a favorite.

What's more is that Hanna isn't convinced the Mandalorian will stop him.

.

He's hard to get a read on, the Mandalorian.

Because he's right. Things are different. Just as she'd been a job to him, he had (mostly) been a captor to her. They'd been on agreeable terms most times, but at the end of the day it had all been shadowed by the Client's assignment.

Now...

Well she's not sure they're on _even _footing, exactly, since he owns and runs the ship. Hanna isn't a prisoner anymore, though. That much is definitely true, and it's a great improvement. She's just not sure what that means.

He's certainly still quiet but there's something different in his tone. Less clipped and harsh.

She's ... ...a guest?

It's the best definition she has. Guest and host.

.

"Ow," Hanna is snapped from her thoughts when a little claw scratches at her arm.

She's seated on some boxes that have been stacked and ordered to fashion a bench at the small table tucked under the cockpit. There had previously been only one place to sit there near the food prep and freezer - _a testament to the Mandalorian's lone-wolf lifestyle_. It's a ramshackle sort of galley but is at least suitable for their needs.

The kid had been shuffling around down there with her and is now standing at her thigh, blinking up at her. Clearly she'd not been paying him the attention he feels he's due.

He makes grabby hands at her and scratches at her arm again_. _Lightly this time.

"What? This?" she holds up one of the pieces of dried fruit that had been left out in a bowl after breakfast. "You don't even like these..."

True. He has remained steadfast in his denial of fruit. Though he's condescended to nuts and grains and will go after a protein bar pretty hard.

"It'll be done in a couple minutes, you little womp rat," the Mandalorian is watching his antics from the kitchen with crossed arms.

He's managing the food prep machine to flash-thaw some sort of stew he has frozen and stored. Hanna had had trouble with the old but dutifully patched-up machine the previous day and he hasn't let her near it since. It's probably on it's last leg and he's getting every last meal out of it he can.

Fine.

Whatever.

Some people are attached to their belongings beyond reason; that's nothing new. And she knows a new food prep doesn't come cheap. Though maybe she could help...

"Hear that?" she looks down at the kid. "Soup's almost ready and it has meat in it."

He screws his face up a fraction and climbs into her lap to get himself that much closer and stretch towards the bowl.

"It's _all_ fruit. Look," Hanna tips the bowl.

He opens and closes a chubby little fist as if to grab a chunk anyway.

"Fine but you'll be disappointed..."

Hanna thumbs up a piece to offer him, and he snatches it swiftly to shove straight into his mouth.

He doesn't smile like he's enjoying it. Just chomps and chews while maintaining eye contact. Like he's smug about proving her wrong and getting what he'd wanted.

"Seriously?" Hanna smothers a laugh when he swallows and tilts his ears up happily. "Maybe womp rat is right... "

She hears a huff from the man near the freezer and sends a grin in that direction.

When she looks down again the kid is pulling himself up onto the table so he can waddle over to the bowl. She wonders how many pieces he'll eat out of childish spite and decides it's worth giving up the impromptu appetizer to find out.

"...do you think we should name him?" she considers, not for the first time.

It is the first time she's asked aloud, however.

It's also the first time there's been someone around worth discussing the child with.

"Hmm ...he probably already has one," the Mandalorian shifts where he's leaning his back on his freezer.

Hanna nods slowly in thought. It's true, of course. He surely has parents somewhere. Has lived more than long enough to be named.

"You're right ... ...I forget how old he is. It doesn't seem possible he's fifty..."

"Yes," the Mandalorian agrees, where once he'd have left her alonewith only her thoughts if she mentioned the information he and the IG Unit had let slip.

Hanna wonders if the kid remembers his name. If he'll still remember it when he learns to talk. She would love to know it; to be able to call him by his given name. Something that's familiar to him.

Then she realizes it had taken him yeas to develop to where he is now. It could take so many more before he's forming words. It's a very strange thought. And somehow sad because she doesn't know she'll be there for it. What if it take another fifty years?

"Look," she twists towards the Mandalorian again instead. "What should I call _you_?"

She's been trying not to ask.

He hadn't shared his name, fine. He's a private guy. That's fine, it really is.

But it's getting strange.

The kid is one thing but the Mandalorian is here and he can say.

"...people call me whatever they like," he answers unhelpfully.

The prep machine buzzes, offering an excuse for him to turn away and retrieve the steaming sack.

"Mando, I've heard..."

It is completely impersonal, as nicknames go.

"That's as good as any," he confirms while dumping food into bowls.

Hanna shifts on her make-do seat while she mulls that over. Do Mandalorians have names, she wonders? Wonders, too, if it's appropriate to ask.

Then decides what the hell?

You don't know a thing until you know it, and she's capable of asking questions kindly.

"...do Mandalorians have names?"

"They do," his answer is calm as ever.

Not a taboo, then.

"So you _do_ have a name, right?"

"Yes."

Okay. Cool. She hasn't stumbled clumsily into a cultural divide. Perhaps just a privacy preference.

Or something.

She doesn't detect that he sounds mad, at least.

That's all she has to gauge her questions on.

"...can I guess it?"

"Could I stop you?" he glances over his shoulder.

Yes.

"Probably"

He makes no immediate attempt to, however.

"Will you actually tell me if I get it right?" she checks.

He has previously stated that he wouldn't want her to disingenuously let him win, that he's not bothered by her winning. But will he admit it when she wins this?'

"You won't"

He seems oh so very sure of that.

"...sounds like a challenge, sir," she has to grin. Just a little. "I accept."

He sighs.

Hanna's not so sure how to decipher that. Exasperation, maybe? Maybe she shouldn't push right now, then. She can wait to make her first guess.

"Why am I not shocked?"

She looks his way in surprise that he's continuing the conversation when she's decided to let it go for now.

"What?" she chortles. "Is that your way of saying I'm annoying?"

She tells herself she won't be offended when he confirms it. She has had many questions since they've met, and she hadn't gone out of her way to be helpful for most of that time. Plus he is used to being alone.

"No," his answer is level and humorless as he scoops up one of the bowls. "You're just ...tenacious," he chooses his word as he deposits the food on the table. "You're a fighter."

"Yeah," Hanna snorts, for she knows an insult when she sees it. "Nice."

It's his first joke, however, so that's kind of nice. Probably not a surprise his sense of humor would be a little biting.

"What?" he continues to stand over the table and stare down at her.

"A fighter? Come on. I'm no fighter. You know that."

She does defend her stew from a child invader, however, when he makes a new dash for the too-hot food.

But that's not much of a fight.

"That's not what those say," he nods vaguely at her hands the table.

The Mandalorian had used the little bit of bacta ointment he still had _\- and it certainly seems like someone in his line of work should have a lot more of it _\- on her wrists. It was enough to close wounds, though they are still pretty bruised-up. And her hands are still a random scatter of thin scrapes.

"Oh, that," she curls her fingers as if to hide them but then swiftly has to snatch the kid off the table. "Those are nothing..."

"Nothing?" he continues to linger there.

"I mean I was just..." she clenches her jaw and looks away. Down.

The kid blinks back. Calm for the moment like he has caught the shift in her mood.

"Just what?" he sounds a little suspicious.

But she could just be hearing wrong over the dissonance of her own thoughts. Memories.

"I was just ... ...scared," she finishes and knows she shouldn't be embarrassed by that but. Well. She is. "What?" she projects onto his blank mask when she looks back up. "That's not easy to say you."

Silence. Even from the kid who definitely wants whatever meat is on the table. Hanna knows he must covet it, but he doesn't reach for it.

"That's fair."

Hanna's short laugh is both relieved and incredibly awkward. But it's like a pressure valve and she feels better.

"Yeah ...well, what I'm saying is I just reacted. It's not like I knew what I was doing..."

"Technique?" he cottons on to her meaning and waves in a careless sort of way before heading back to the counter again. "That part can be taught."

Implying there's another part. Something you don't learn. Something deeper. Something ... ...she has?

A warm and frankly foreign feeling like pride sparks in her chest.

She stares at his back where he's picking up that second bowl and utensil.

"Is that a compliment?"

From a Mandalorian she entirely suspects so.

"...always fishing," she hears as he turns.

Again he sounds casual about it, but she obviously can't see if her grin is returned.

She's still working on that gauge of him.

"... ...can you just tell me if you're amused or annoyed?"

To better interact with him in the future. He should invest in giving her the information now so she understands; it will benefit him next time.

But she's not sure he will.

"Which do you think?"

She props her chin on her hand and contemplates him. Replays the conversation. The way he'd spoken in his usual, even cadence throughout. Nothing rushed. Nothing harsh.

"Amused."

His ticks his head to the side minutely.

So it _is_ a compliment. She accepts the understanding of it this time rather than announce it aloud and rankle any dormant ire.

He heads for the ladder and manages to ascend easily with one hand and a bowl of hot food. He'll eat in the cockpit.

Hanna knows they're not to follow.

"Alright you..." she switches her focus back to the kid. And getting him some protein.

.  
.

She amuses him in the hull after they eat and clean up after themselves. She hasn't been banned from the cockpit, but she wants to give him space even after he's had time to eat.

He'll humor her, obviously, but he clearly likes the quiet.

So she'll supply that.

Until she comes up with some kind of back-up plan, at least.

They haven't made real plans. Haven't talked about the future. He could be planning to dump her and the kid off at any time. Perhaps he'd assuaged whatever guilt or doubt he had and wants to wash his hands of them.

She wouldn't really be able to blame him.

She's too far in for that herself.

.

"Way too far," she mutters to herself while swaying from side to side and jostling her arm very lightly to get the kid the rest of the way to sleep .

It would be nice if he'd sleep in his own bed - _or cabinet dressed up into a bed_ \- tonight. He's been clingy at night since their harrowing escape. The only real evidence that he's been through something.

"What's that?" the Mandalorian disrupts the peace by showing up unannounced.

He has no right being as quiet as he is when he's covered in armor, straps, and buckles half the time.

"Nothing ...just talking to the kid..."

The eyes that had been unfocused and droopy are awake now that another voice has added itself to the fray.

"Mm," the Mandalorian takes a brief peek and then straightens up. "We're heading for Gandle Ott. We should be there in two days."

"Gandle Ott..."

She knows it's part of the Trition Trade Route, for she's met enough people who'd mentioned passing through. She's never been herself.

"We need to stock up. I usually take some more time after a job to resupply..."

"And you got stowaways this time instead."

As if knowing that he's been mentioned, the kid decides to squirm and heft himself out of a relaxed, supine position.

Damn it.

"I'll get more fuel. Food. And you need clothes..." he goes on.

Hanna tries not to take that as a dig.

But it is true.

She only has the worn, faded clothing she'd left Arvala-7 in. She's done her best to keep it in shape, but that's not saying a whole lot. Especially now since the left sleeve is stained in blood from having her IV unceremoniously ripped out. Hanna has scrubbed at that in the sink, but there's no mistaking what it is.

She's a bit of a sight. No denying it.

"Do we have the credits for that?"

And by "we" she of course means "him." She is painfully aware that she's brining zero liquidity to the table at the moment.

"Yes. I can't cash in on the last job I tried to take because other hunters will be watching," he gripes a bit despite the assurance, "but we'll be alright."

She says a silent little prayer of thanks that he used "we" too.

"If money _is_ a problem, while we're there I can-"

"No. I said we're fine."

"Well, I don't want to freeload. I know ho-"

"No," he's firmer - _more growly_ \- about it this time. "We'll be in and out. You stick with the kid."

"Yeah. That's fine..." she remembers her original goal of keeping out of his hair.

If he has hair.

...she's definitely not going to ask that.

.

.

Once Hanna coaxes the kid to sleep, she nestles him very carefully in _his_ bed and crosses her fingers that he will stay there. She hasn't been sleeping very well, and though he is a warm little ball when he sneaks his way into her bed he also moves around a lot.

She would like a restful night.

The adults' beds aren't far from him, one of the things that probably makes the move tempting for him in the middle of the night.

They are bunks, essentially. Two panels built into the wall that fold down to reveal cots. There is a third, as well, but they aren't in need of it since they have the kid squirreled away in a bed with more walls surrounding it.

Hanna's cot is hardly a foot off the ground. The Mandalorian's is a few feet above that. She's not sorry that he has the ones that's easier to get in and out of, what with him being the pilot and all. He'd also made his reasoning known by commandeering an extra blanket and tucking it under his thin mattress to create a curtain around half of her bed.

No peeking, it practically screams.

Copy that.

10-4.

She couldn't care less right now. She just wants to rest.

However, she is a good guest so after she shimmies into her bunk she ensures the make-do curtain is not disturbed.

The mattress is thin, but it's better than sleeping in the desert. Her ass also appreciates it more than when she'd fallen asleep in the cockpit the first night. There had been no fighting that after the adrenaline crash and the sedatives still lingering in her system. She had woken up with the Mandalorian's cloak flung over her and the kid, which was nice, but also an aching tailbone - _not so nice_.

.

She's still awake and she hears the Mandalorian turn-in later, but she doesn't see a single thing. He extinguishes another light, and soon after she falls into the sleep she's looking for.

.

_'Stop!'_

_'No!' Hanna thrashes wildly, without plan, as someone tries to pin an arm down. "No! Where is he!'_

_She hears voices yelling at her. Feels pressure on her limbs trying to hold her down. To stop her. _

_But she sees nothing. _

_No one. _

_Overtop of it all, she can hear crying. _

_The kid. _

_He's screaming. __**Wailing**__. _

_She needs to get to him; he must be close by. _

_She struggles off of the ice cold table and sees a door. Of course there is. He must be right next door. _

_She runs sluggishly for it and bursts through only to a find a dark, empty space. No one is there. _

_But she can hear him. _

_Why isn't he here? _

_And why is he crying? _

_'Take her away!' an accented voice echos in her head. _

_No! She can't go. She needs to find him. Needs to help him. Needs to -_

.

Hanna wakes with a gasp.

Upon finding only darkness she panics briefly until her brain can piece together where she is.

No Dr. Pershing.

No needles.

The Razor Crest.

The kid's fine.

He _had_ cried like that. Once. But he's okay now.

Her stomach rolls at the memory and she fights to extricate herself from her blanket. Pulls at the one hanging between her and freedom.

_Kriff_.

"Wake up," she thumps a hand on the cot hanging above her.

As soon as she hears movement she scrambles out of bed.

"Wh-"

"Sorry," she offers and keeps her head forward even though the Mandalorian's voice made it clear he'd shoved his helmet back on.

The ship is mostly-dark except for some emergency lights, but those let her find the toilet without incident. She shoves the fresher door closed and slides to her knees in time to heave the previous day's strew right into the bowl.

It's not pretty.

It's not fun.

And the memory of the kid's wailing echos in her mind. Slamming her hands over her ears does nothing to block it out.

Because it isn't real, she knows that. That was in the past. He's fine. Running a muck in the ship. Trying to make everything a toy. His usual self, as if it hadn't happened at all.

_'...these things are now forgotten,' _the lilted, sinister voice hisses another memory.

Her stomach roils up whatever is left to expel.

They aren't forgotten. They're _here_. It's fine.

Though that hadn't come without its own cost, had it? She thinks of the man she'd shot off the ship's ramp. The way he'd tumbled back.

She's not _sorry_, exactly. It had been a means towards a necessary end. Even so...

She dry heaves but nothing's left to come up.

.

She hears movement outside of the fresher, and thin scratching on the door pulls her attention to it.

A muffled coo.

She smiles despite her distress.

"Stop that," of course she knows that voice, too. "Leave her be."

Footsteps retreat from the door and she wipes at the tears stinging their way out of her eyes. Shifts to lean against the wall of the tiny shower and takes deep breaths to calm down.

He's right out there.

She's heard him.

Proof positive that they're fine.

She hasn't failed him completely. Not yet. This is their chance to get it right.

With one last, long breath, Hanna shoves herself to her feet. Empties the fresher. Cleans herself up as best she can.

.

The Mandalorian has turned a light on by the time she gets back to the beds. He has also righted the mess she knows she must have made of the drapery under his bed.

He's sitting up in his bed, now, legs dangling over the edge and kid nestled in his lap. He has his helmet on, of course, but the rest of his armor is set out neatly on the nearby bench. He's wearing what she likens to a flight suit of sorts.

Fitting, since he's a pilot.

It's not his normal look. He seems strangely ...young. No gloves. No boots. No extra layers. He's smaller, obviously, but somehow still also larger than life sitting there staring at her.

"Sorry to wake you..."

If he'd planned to answer, he's interrupted by the kid trying to make a lunge for her.

"Cut the kamikaze act," he chides after catching him, his large hand enveloping the kid's torso completely.

The kid cranes his neck back to look upwards and chirp at the man. Then tries shuffling towards his knees like he's determined to do it again.

"I'm tempted not to give you what you want," the Mandalorian warns darkly despite the fact that he's stretching to hand him off to Hanna as he says it.

"Hi," she lifts him up toward her face so he can see her smile and know she's alright.

He pats her chin affectionately and holds his arms out in a bid to be drawn closer to her. When she obliges he coos and cuddles himself straight into her shoulder.

And that's that.

Apparently he's sleeping with her.

She's not entirely sorry this time around.

.

"Sorry again ...good night," she doesn't hold the Mandalorian's gaze for long before hunkering down to slide back into her bunk.

"Good night"

The light's off again as soon as she stops moving around. Then it's just her and the kid in their little cocoon. He coos a few times and makes great efforts to bury his face between her arm and chest but can't get himself straight back to sleep.

Hanna sighs and pats his back. She can't blame him, for she's not going to doze again quite yet either. Can he sense that?

She wonders on that and hums quietly to him to try to speed him on his way.

.

There's occasional shifting above her, so for now they're all awake.


	9. Pragmatism and optimism

_**Hi all! I appreciate all the feedback - I'm glad to hear folks are still enjoying.  
I hope you are all staying well :]**_

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 9: ****Pragmatism and optimism**

The port the Mandalorian chooses on Gandle Ott is nothing grandiose, but it is crowded and bustling.

So much so that it takes Hanna aback at first, for it had been quite a while since she'd been in such a populated place. It strikes her as overwhelming enough that she doesn't to argue when the Mandalorian tells her the kid can stay with him. He's planning to stick closer to the ship and that seems like a good place for the kid to be.

Once she is actually out in the melee, the fast pace of busy crowds comes back to her as natural. She moves with it and shoulders her way past strangers as needed.

The spread of shops has everything she needed, so she's able to quickly fill the rucksack the Mandalorian had gifted her.

.

Now she's even considering shoes for the kid. Not that he ever seems to mind going without. Plus his feet are oddly shaped ...

She abandons that idea.

But she does grab a couple small tunics and a new blanket for him from a small selection of children's items she'd found. He's too disproportioned for the short trousers offered and, anyway, he is perfectly content in his current form of attire.

So, over all, she's happy with the clothes and hygiene necessities she's found. Even more pleased that she has plenty leftover in the small bag of credits the Mandalorian had given when she departed.

He hadn't even given her an audience to gripe about being unable to help with money.

_"Are you sure I can't-"_

_"No. Be quick. Come straight back." _

So, fine. He's bankrolling the excursion.

They're going to need to have a chat, though, she thinks. It's his ship and his rules: awesome. But she can finish a sentence at the very least.

.

Despite the conflicted feelings with which she had taken the money, she is currently considering whether she is going to give _all_ of the unspent credits back to him. She has a compulsion to ferret it away. Save it. Start her own "just in case" fund.

But she knows she can't. She's too grateful he'd leant her the wallet in the first place.

Admittedly, she has a very uncomfortable relationship with money.

She'd been paid in indentured work, sure. But once you pay a share to your proprietor toward paying-off your contract you still have to fork over rent and necessities payments to them, too. You're generally lucky to have anything left for even small conveniences or to save up. In practice, it's not actually a system you work your way out of. That's just on-paper nonsense.

She sighs.

Yes it will all have to go back to him no matter how tantalizing it feels to hold a wallet with a little weight to it. She'll feel guilty otherwise.

.

"Move faster," a voice hisses in her ear.

Hanna starts even though she knows the voice and the shine of metal at her shoulder.

"What?"

"Walk. Faster," he repeats himself and slips the bag smoothly from her shoulder to drape over his own.

"What happened?" she begins to turn.

"Act normal"

She _normally_ asks questions, but she doesn't say so.

Instead:

"Where's the kid?"

He had been left in the Mandalorian's custody, but he is suspiciously alone right now.

"Locked on the ship."

She'll leave the 'why' for later, then.

They bump up the pace as much as they can without absolutely bowling people over.

.

"You were saying?" Hanna's eyes go wide when they near the dock and the kid is shuffling around the outside of the ship, his head roving from side to side as he looks for company.

"How the-" the Mandalorian curses lightly and gives her a nudge. "Get him."

She does and jogs up the ramp in time to see the man toss her bag aside and dart for the ladder. Once she slams the button for the ramp hoist she joins him.

All the while the kid is welcoming her back with little pats on the arm like he _hadn't_ just jail-broke the place.

.

Their exit from the planet is swift and methodical.

"What happened?" she turns to the Mandalorian as soon as stealth and casual disguise are things of the past.

"Active hunters"

A cold feeling prickles up Hannah's spine and she flexes her fingers subconsciously around the kid.

He squeaks and she lets him go.

Immediately, he wiggles down and scampers to the Mandalorian and tugs on his pants leg in hopes of getting a left up. He likely wants to play with on the dash.

"Looking for _us_?"

"I don't think so. They didn't get too close..."

"Then how did you know they're hunters?"

He cuts her a look. Then returns focus to the controls.

"I just do."

Mysterious.

"So ...just better safe than sorry, right?"

"I don't exactly blend in," he sighs and finally relents to bend and scoop up the kid, who '_squees'_ in delight. "They'll hear about me soon enough. I don't want to leave a trail."

"Okay ...yeah. Okay. But it's not like we're being chased," she relaxes gratefully. "Nice..."

"Can't bank on that yet," the Mandalorian sounds perfectly matter-of-fact about that.

Killjoy.

Irregardless of his negativity, Hanna appreciates his pragmatism. He'd seen the threat and acted to keep them safe. He also hadn't ditched her, which is comforting.

She decides that chat she'd been half-choreographing in her head about how it would be much more respectful of him to let her talk ...that can wait. He's getting used to the whole having company business; so what if he's not amazing at it yet?

He's doing more important things perfectly well.

.

Once it becomes pretty clear that, no, they hadn't been followed, Hanna heads back to the hull to putz around organizing her new belongings.

If she purchased them herself but used his credits ...are they _hers_ or _his?_

...definitely hers.

.

The kid had opted to stay up in the cockpit because he is a traitor, so when Hanna finishes tidying up she helps herself to a shower in the fresher and changes into gloriously clean, new pants and a top. She even pulls a sweater on against the chill of the cabin.

Then she is only left with the quiet. There are worse things, of course. And its not like there is much to do to get into trouble.

.  
.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Hanna should have had a better ear out.

Because getting caught with the side of the food prep machine pulled apart had not been her plan. She'd hoped to be finished more quickly than this.

"I know what I'm doing," she holds both hands up innocently despite her promise.

The Mandalorian shifts the kid from one arm to the other. She feels sure he wants to reach over to the counter where she's squatting and yank her off with the free hand.

"It probably doesn't look that way," she concedes. "Just ...sometimes you have to make more of a mess before you get it all back together."

He tucks his chin in like he isn't buying what she's selling.

Which...fair.

"A few days ago you couldn't even _use_ it," he growls.

But that's a little far.

"I told you I've just never used this model," she defends herself. "But they're more or less the same when you get inside 'em," she taps a knuckle on the machine. "I've seen plenty..."

He slants his head at her for further explanation.

"I was on a mechanical crew at a repair bay back on Castilion. Inside. Outside. You name it. If you were paying, we'd figure it out ...or pretend to," she grins a little shyly for that.

She can't help it. Sometimes creativity and wishes worked themselves out into engineering miracles...or sometimes it just got you in trouble.

"You..." he falters uncharacteristically.

Hanna can't help but find a little bit of glee in that.

"You were there when he said I bolted from a refueling station," she twists around to sit on the counter since this is a _thing_ now and the crouching had been wearing on her ankles. "Turning wrenches is, like ...the most common job in a place like that. What did you think I did?"

The Mandalorian straightens his spine a little defensively, but he ultimately opts not to say.

_Ah_.

Distasteful of his own assumption, maybe?

But his non-answer is answer enough as to what he thought had been implied at the time. What plenty of people might assume an indentured woman got dropped into.

It makes sense, then. His refusal of any effort on her part to get spare credits.

"Yeah," she drawls a little to show him she's not offended and he can relax that rod in his spine. "I was lucky. I have small hands and I'm a quick learner ...I worked really hard to prove I was useful on the docks."

He gives a firm nod.

"I understand."

Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn't.

At least he doesn't sound pissed anymore.

"How long ...did you work there?"

A smile slowly splits over Hanna's face as she relishes him asking his first real question of her. Or at least _about_ her. Probably just to assess her credibility with laying hands on his source of warm food. Even so.

"...pretty much all of my twenties," she shrugs, though truthfully she knows the exact date at nineteen. "My mom was an indent ...after my dad passed and the economy was teetering everywhere. Well, a lot of people turned to that," he's nodding because that's not news to anyone who's gotten around the galaxy as much as he clearly has. "When she got sick I bought out her contract ..."

"...with your own?" he makes the connection without her

"I was old enough; she couldn't stop me," she grins sardonically.

"Younger, fitter worker. Sounds like a no-brainer," he's factual about it rather than scandalized.

Tale as old as time, or whatever they say. Maybe he's never been to Castilion, maybe he has. That doesn't really matter. Poverty isn't region-specific; it festers anywhere it can.

"Basically. My contract got sold off to an asshole on Catilion a few months in, so I'd been there ever since. It wasn't easy," for it was a thankless job and a rough hub, but she'd at least had friends. "... it could've been worse, though."

"...so where's the kid come in?" said kid's green ears perk up when he senses himself become topic front and center.

The Mandalorian pointedly does not backtrack in the story to ask about her mom. It could be more lack of concern than actual tact, but she appreciates it either way.

"Hell if I know," that's an answer Hanna doesn't have for him. "Snuck off some transport, I guess. He found me after that. I practically tripped over him on my way back to my dormitory..."

Okay. Truth? She _had_ tripped over him that night. It had been ungainly and undignified, and it didn't need to be relived for someone who managed to make a cape look _bad_ in all the good ways.

Plus, she'd felt really awful about it.

He'd _mewl-_ed at her. She'd been sure his parents were going to show up and dress her down for it.

Only, of course, no one ever had.

And so here they are.

.

The Mandalorian twists the kid in his hold and gazes down at him.

"...well the sneaking off a transport part I believe."

Hanna snorts.

"Look, I'm sorry I helped myself to your tools. And I should have asked before working on your equipment," she supposes she should be honest about her true sense of manners. "But I can't just do nothing. I owe you too much."

"No you-"

"I do," she talks over him for once. "If it was the other way around, how would you feel?"

He doesn't devolve into a spiel about how he would never get his ass caught and stuck in such a situation in the first place. For that, she's thankful.

"Point taken"

She nods.

"So I can finish? You're not going to get angry and use your flame thrower on me?"

He scoffs at this under his helmet.

It feels sort of like permission. So she twists back around to study the connections to the heating elements. He's still standing watch, but he's not the first overly-particular customer she's come in contact with.

She treats him like one by pretending he's not there.

Until he pipes up.

"So, tell me. Why exactly was I teaching you how to use a solderer?"

Oh. That.

_Was_ he teaching her, though?

Hanna shrugs.

"Sorry. But I wasn't going to help you move along any faster, was I?"

She turns her chin enough to get a look at him even though she knows she won't be able to get a good read on his reaction to that.

"...no," he decides levelly and without any apparent annoyance. "I guess you wouldn't."

The kid starts to get fussy and the Mandalorian drops onto the stool nearby so that he can set the little guy down on the table. There, he darts for the protein bar wrapper Hanna had discarded earlier and sniffs around it for crumbs.

"Hungry?" the Mandalorian checks.

When Hanna looks over the kid is nibbling at whatever taste is left on the foil wrapper. That's probably answer enough.

"Stay _right_ there..."

Given his recent antics it is brave to trust the kid will do as he's told, but the Mandalorian does. He peeks in the freezer and then starts rustling around a cabinet to find something he can bank on the kid enjoying. Only when the noise stops but the Mandalorian doesn't stomp back across the room does Hanna turn to see what the hold up is.

And finds him staring at her.

"What?"

"...that night. When I found you in the cockpit," he clarifies. "Could you have flown it?"

"No. Or..not _well_. Definitely not safely..."

"How well, then?"

"I could've changed our course," she admits the extent of things, for she knows how to read gauges and what all the parts do but has never once put it all together and flown a single ship in her life. "I definitely could have broken something nonessential..."

That is met by silence for a few moments.

"I underestimated you," he admits, and he sounds annoyed with himself for letting an enemy sneak around under his nose. "I almost left you alone up there to wallow."

She laughs a little.

"So you _do_ think I'm an idiot," she remembers accusing him of that before but doesn't feel as pained afterward by it now.

He only stares at her some more, head tilted just so.

"...you have very skewed assumptions of the way I think of you."

Well...

Well.

Just what does that mean? How is she supposed to know what he's thinking? And so what if she hasn't completely cast-off the idea of him as some sort of superior yet. Who could? Anyway; look at him. She's getting used to the armor and helmet, but it's not like his is an inherently endearing look.

"Okay. Then what do you think?"

He appraises her with a new incline of his head.

"...fishing for compliments again?"

She rolls her eyes and gets back to her work. The Mandalorian does, too, and is soon ripping open a plastic package.

"This will tide you over," he tips out some sort of dried jerky onto the tabletop.

While the kid tests out his first one, the Mandalorian sits the rest of the pieces out at regular intervals. Soon the kid is surrounded in a semi-circle of snacks so he won't have to move to get more food. Certainly won't have to go near the table's ledge.

Hanna smiles at the pair and pulls up a relay board to study.

.

Once she wraps-up and assures the Mandalorian that, yes, he can make up a meal, she retreats to go wash her hands and to put things away where she had found them.

He has moved the kid to the counter and is inspecting the food prep machine when she returns. There's something freeze-dried on the bar that the kid is poking and trying to get a good whiff of.

"Uh-huh...you're going eat that; I'm not going to make anything else," he couples this declaration with a glance at the kid. "You don't charm me with your little sounds like you do her. You're a menace."

"So I'm a pushover, now, am I?"

"At times," he doesn't at all seem surprised that she's there, nor does he pause his checking the oven.

She can't exactly argue his point so she doesn't bother.

"The work up so snuff?"

"Mm. Yes," he is unafraid to concede.

"I did take longer than I thought. It tripped me up a bit...being an older model."

"She's fine"

Hanna chuckles at his possessiveness.

"But thank you."

She isn't laughing, then. She's nearly positive that he's never thanked her for anything.

True she hasn't tried to give him many reasons to yet.

But still.

It's nice.

"I've plotted a course for Sorgan," he moves right past the moment like it's nothing and cuts open the package of food.

"Sorgan...where's that?"

It's no specific surprise to her she hasn't heard of the place; she's not the big traveler.

"Middle of nowhere. No large ports or notable population density. Just some backwater skughole no one would look twice at."

"I get it..." she understands the appeal immediately.

"It'll take a few days to get there ...but we'll be able to lay low. Stretch our legs a while..."

"How long?"

"Couple months, maybe..." he guesses.

Months.

Wow.

Hanna isn't sure why that surprises her. Maybe it's his optimism that this place will be safe for that long. Or she just hasn't stopped and given deep thought to how permanently stuck together they are ...or hadn't let herself believe he is really staying at all.

That could be it.

Maybe she is surprised to hear him confirm that he's not preparing to dip out on the situation.

"Is that a problem?"

He's staring at her now, head cocked curiously since she's failed to partake further in the conversation. That's usually his gig.

"Hmmm, no? No. Why would it be?"

Her surveys her a little longer and then turns fully.

"...you weren't planning on a trip home, were you?"

Surely he can't mean Castilion; she's sure she hadn't sounded homesick for the place. Does he remember the Old Man reporting that she grew up on Coruscant? She suspects he remembers everything. But there's most definitely nothing for her there these days.

So she scoffs.

"No"

"Because any place connected to you is the first place they'll look, and-"

"Stop. I'm not," she promises. "I'm not harboring a fantasy that there's any going backwards now ...I don't want to anyway. I guess I was just surprised you're so confident this place will be safe."

Mostly. No reason to mention she's subconsciously looking for signs that he's ready to bail.

Fairly good chance that's offensive.

"Won't know for sure 'til we get there," he concedes, seeming satisfied with her answer and turning to watch and judge closely as the new-and-improved prep machine works its way up to heat. "But no obvious red flags ...odds are we'll be pretty bored there."

Odds are, hmm?

Luck has't exactly always been on Hanna's side. But that could be turning. He doesn't seem like the fanciful sort, so if he's willing to be optimistic then so is she.

"...it's not going to blow up," she assures him, though she's not offended by the way he's standing there with arms crosses to assess how the machine is doing.

"We'll see"

"Guess so," she plops down on the stool he'd abandoned and waits, too.

For victory.

"...is your name Gordo?"

He had given her apathetic permission to guess and has so far humored the few guesses she's lobbed his way. Not too many to bother him, but she hasn't forgotten her curiosity.

"No"

"...what about Cassian?"

"No"

"Hmmm..." she plucks up one of the pieces of jerky left on the table to try and is pleased to find it's spicy.

The kid, having seen this, chirps in indignation from the counter.

"It'll only be a few minutes," the Mandalorian shushes him and scoops him up so he can see inside the food prep.

Yeah, yeah. Who's the pushover now?


	10. Data collection and krill

_Hi! Happy Monday ...if it matters to you. I'm working from home these days but everyday of the week is blending together. _

_I hope you are all doing well and staying safe/healthy. 3_

* * *

**Chapter 10:****Data Collection and Krill**

"...so stay right there. Don't. Touch. Anything."

The kid looks far too happy to have understood a word the Mandalorian just said. He's smiling. His ears are wiggling.

He's not understanding or he simply doesn't care.

Possibly both.

"You think he gets it?"

_Yeah._ And the Hutts run a charity.

"Maybe," Hanna's bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.

She's antsy.

Sorgan is full of _green_ and she's anxious to go take it all in.

"But probably not," the Mandalorian reads her tone. "Look, just stay here with him. I'll be back as soon as I get a lay of the land," he returns to his original plan.

Boo.

No. She's already lobbied against this.

"We can just bring him with us," she tries not to sound annoyed.

"No. This place looks docile, but I don't know that for sure yet..."

"And I'm not trying to be ignorant about that, but if this doesn't work out I would like to have gotten out and enjoyed the fresh air," she reasons. "It's not like we were out on Gandle Ott long..."

All sensible reasons. But she can practically hear his teeth grinding.

"You call the shots out there, I promise..." she smiles winningly.

Maybe she's nearing "whining" territory, but she needs closer to those trees. She wants to _see_ this place, and she's pretty sure if she stays here he will request she stay inside until he gets back.

"...but I don't in here, apparently..."

He sounds resigned rather than testy.

Which tastes like a near win.

Indeed, he isn't mounting up a counter argument. He's just studying the kid. His posture isn't defensive, so he can't be _too_ set on his proposition.

You don't spend time in such close quarters and not pick up on a thing like that. He's still not chatty, but that hasn't been making her as edgy as it once had. Based on the times when they _do_ talk, he doesn't sound resentful or annoyed with her presence. He's just a reserved guy.

That was kind of a freeing thing to realize a couple days previous.

She had been slouched in one of the cockpit's spare seats talking about different aircraft pressurization systems she's worked on, and she'd started feeling self-conscious that she was talking way too much. Only ..._he'd asked_. He wanted to know and was listening, taking stock of whatever was relevant to him. And content to do so, so far as she could tell. He doesn't seem like he'd be afraid to tell her to shut up if he needed to.

A revelation, truly.

Small but essential.

"...are you that worried?"

Because if he isn't mad, then he's something else.

Maybe that shouldn't be ignored.

He looks from the kid to her. Sighs.

"What the hell. He's your responsibility to keep an eye on."

Beaming, she snatches the kid up and goes for the hatch before he can change his mind.

.

Walking through the woods is decidedly better than walking through the desert. Hanna tries to tell the Mandalorian so, but he doesn't commit one way or the other.

Which is fine. She already knows it to be true.

In fact, if they have to do a 180 and leave today she just might cry. That one she _doesn't_ share with her companion because she's not sure what kind of experience he has dealing with tears.

She promises herself she'll be quiet about it if it comes to that.

The place smells damp. The colors are bright. Her sight is filled with things that are alive and growing. The lush, winding likes of which she hadn't seen in a long time.

The kid is enamored, too. So much so that she needs to pick him up and carry him part of the way. He had been interested in every single thing that he saw, darting here and there and laughing the entire way. While this was painfully adorable, it had slowed their pace to the point of being obnoxious.

.

There are fewer things to see in town, so Hanna puts the kid back down.

The Mandalorian says he can always bank on getting news in bars. The eatery they find is probably smaller than he'd been hoping, but it is fairly crowded given how few people had been out on the paths.

As if to prove the place is sheltered, heads turn towards the out-of-towners.

The Mandalorian, most obviously.

But Hanna, too.

Her pants, slim top, and short jacket are the sort of clothes she's used to and had been practical when working in the dock stalls. Now, they are a contrast to the loose flowing skirts most of the women here are wearing.

Then there is the kid and, of course, he doesn't quite fit-in in any crowd.

Quirky trio, they are.

If the Mandalorian notices any of this he doesn't act like it. Hanna assumes he is used to such treatment, but the pointed attention makes her more than a little uncomfortable. It feels like pressure. It also feels like suspicion, and she's beginning to feel heated...

_"Eeep!"_ the kid hops back from a hissing loth-cat who is apparently allowed to roam freely.

Not that they're known for violence, but the kid _is_ very small...

"Shoo," Hanna waves it off and sweeps the kid into her arms.

Once he's safe in the crook of her arm he's curious about the animal, and he leans over her elbow to watch it. Even when she deposits him in one of the wooden chairs, he's watching over the back of the seat as the cat prowls.

"Welcome travelers," a perky woman shows up wringing her hands in an apron. "What can I get you?"

The Mandalorian says nothing so she waits for Hanna.

"I saw some customers eating some sort of soup ...is there meat in that?"

"Yes, ma'am. Fresh game. If you would prefer, we have leek soup so you can skip the red meat."

"No, I'll take the other. No matter the game, thank you," Hanna knows the kid won't be picky about that either.

"Broth for your little one?"

"Oh. No. I'll share with him," as if she'd get away with _not _sharing.

"And an order for you, as well, sir?"

"Just the one," the Mandalorian slides some coin to her.

"On it's way"

"One more thing..."

.

If the woman tending their table is pretending to be oblivious as the Mandalorian plies her with credits and tries to get the gossip on the town, she is a very good actor. The woman's bright mood just rises and she offers freebies to go with their meal. Hanna tends to the kid to look away and hide her smile.

Already forgetting his original scare, the kid is trying to climb off the chair. His eyes are still on that damn cat.

"What about _her?_ What's her business?"

Those words catch Hanna's ear and she gathers a firm hold on the kid so she can sit up properly and pay more attention.

The Mandalorian had sat himself with his back to the wall, so of course he's already scoped out every inch of the place. Hanna needs to take better heed of the habit. For even she can't miss the only other person with armor on once she's looking properly.

A dark woman with a stony look etched on her face. She's sprawled in her own seat quite comfortably, but she's making no secret of watching their table right back.

Which is admittedly badass since it means she isn't cowed by a Mandalorian.

Given that Hanna is with said Mandalorian, she's more than a little disquieted.

The waitress pleads ignorance after a couple questions. Then by the time she dismisses herself, the woman across the dining house has left.

"Damn it," the Mandalorian curses under his breath.

Hanna tenses when he stands.

"Should I -"

"No," the Mandalorian stops her right there before she can get up, too. "Keep a hold on the kid."

"It was nice while it lasted, buddy," Hanna mutters to the kid, watching the Mandalorian stalk towards the door with tension in his shoulders.

Something's clearly up here.

The woman _had_ looked like trouble. And the Mandalorian had clocked her immediately so that wasn't just Hanna's naivety.

Although ...he hadn't wanted her to make a run for the ship. Nor had he shoved a gun in her direction, and she knows he has more than one on him. Both of those facts feel positive. He'd been quick and business-like about leaving, but not in a panic or rage.

She'll need some kind of danger scale, she realizes. Given current company, it could be nothing but helpful. She has already been in some desperate situations with him, so she already has experiences to judge from. However this issue turns-out, she'll add it to some kind of Bell Curve of the Mandalorian's reactions.

.

A large bowl of soup appears at the table while Hanna's thinking all of this over, so she's partially distracted by parsing out some meat to hand the kid. Not so distracted that she's not watching the two doors of the place, however.

So she sees the Mandalorian duck back in and relaxes in relief since his pace is leisurely. Unbothered.

Calm is good!

But then the woman follows closely behind and is equally as calm.

.

Cara, it turns out.

Former shock trooper for the rebel alliance.

And if that's isn't charming as hell, Hanna doesn't know what is.

Cara's casual about the telling of this, almost coy. Doesn't need to boast loudly of her strength.

Hanna had met rebel fighters before. Not to mention Imperial scouts. All sorts ran through fuel ports. Their orders had been to fix whatever docked for whoever stepped off the aircraft. No questions. No allegiances. Never.

Which isn't to say there wasn't romanticism in the idea. That no one had talked in hushed tones about disappearing to try to find a rebel base and join up. That some people hadn't stolen away to do just that _\- whether they ever made it, Hanna has no idea_.

Now she's a mercenary.

Which is shady, but maybe no more so than Hanna and the Mandalorian sneaking around with a 50-year-old alien baby.

Anyway, Hanna doesn't care. She's taken with the unflinching way Cara tells the Mandalorian why she'd openly attacked him. She admires the former solider for that confidence despite the fact that her first impression had been fearful.

"So how about you?" Cara sips at the spotchka Hanna had offered up.

"Looking to lay low," the Mandalorian responds unhelpfully.

A quirked black eyebrow shows Cara's displeasure with this lack of reciprocity. She looks between the two companions.

In solidarity, Hanna also gives her nothing more.

The Mandalorian had been attentive and respectful of Cara's story, but if he doesn't want to play show-and-tell maybe there is something else Hanna isn't getting.

Cara watches her closely while she hands a couple more chunks of meat to the kid, one of which he sucks straight down without chewing. It is hard to tell if the look on the other woman's face is impressed or disgusted, but then her dark eyes return to Hanna's green ones. Bore right in. Perhaps she's come to the conclusion Hanna will be easier broken than the Mandalorian.

Which ...is probably true. But she is a loyal companion, so not _so _easily.

"Okay, look," she sits back with a sigh, though she doesn't look satisfied. "I know how to mind my own business. Hell, I _like_ to mind my own business ...but if this is some kind of slaving situation, I have a damn thing to say."

Hanna twitches.

Blinks.

Forces herself to meet Cara's gaze.

The woman shoots a pointed look down to the table. At Hanna's hands. _No,_ her wrists, she realizes once she finds her hands unremarkable.

A redish-purple mark has remained where she'd bled after being handcuffed. The scabbing is long-gone thanks to the bit of bacta, but not all of the evidence has disappeared. She hadn't thought about how that might look. Especially to someone who's seen the things Cara has surely seen.

"No, that's not ..."

Surprised to not be cut-off, she glances at the Mandalorian.

He's staring steadily across the table rather than coming to his own defense.

"I doubt very much she wants to hear from me."

Ah. Yeah.

_Duh_.

"Well, no!" she repeats . "It's nothing like that. He," she glances at the Mandalorian and then at the kid. "_We_ were in a really bad spot. He helped both of us out."

Funny how she would've loved to run into Cara's assumptions a few weeks ago. She would've spun any wild tale.

Now. Well. It's not like that.

Cara considers. Raises a dark brow in the Mandalorian's direction again.

"Doesn't sound like the Guild..."

"Wasn't sanctioned," is his simple response.

Non-expansive but clearly true, given how things have gone.

"Hmmm..."

Cara continues to study him. Perhaps weighing what she knows about this guild up against anything she knows about Mandalorians. Whatever her ambiguous arithmetic is, she must come up square because her shoulders relax.

"You sure? Because if you need help - I had him licked out there," she offers, but there's a playfulness to the brag this time. A grin on her lips.

One last check.

"Thank you, but no," Hanna means that, too, and smiles. "We're good. We're ...very grateful to him," she finishes truthfully and hopes the woman will sense it.

The Mandalorian finally turns away from Cara to Hanna at these words.

What? This couldn't possibly be a surprise.

When Hanna looks to him to see, he turns away again.

"You didn't have me beat"

"Sure," Cara snorts, smirking. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, pal..."

Hmm. Hanna wonders just what they're going to measure to settle the matter.

"But if that's the case ...nice talk," Cara takes one last swig of her drink. "Unless you want to go another round, one of us is going to have to move on. ...and I was here first."

And then she raises like that's simply that.

"Wait, w-"

"Safe travels," she bids with one last nod and then struts away.

"Is she serious?" Hanna twists to the Mandalorian.

"Yeah. Neither of us should lay low in a place where someone else sticks out, too ...it's too much"

"Damn it..."

"Just because this planet is taken doesn't mean the next one will be, and there's no shortage of shit-holes," he sounds like he half-expected this.

Certainly nothing new.

Hanna supposes she should takes notes. She's already proven to herself that she hasn't made the smartest choices when trying to lay low with kid.

"Okay..."

"No rush, though ...go ahead and finish with him..."

.

Hanna suggests getting some of the soup to-go for the Mandalorian, but he passes.

With that, they're soon on their way back to the ship. Hanna drags her feet a little bit to enjoy the scenery in case the next planet is another desert.

"So what Cara said back there...about your fight. Did she actually-"

"No," the Mandalorian doesn't let her finish her question.

Hanna chuckles a little. Wonders what the fight had really been like and whether he'd admit if it hadn't been going well for him.

"Alright, then. What is The Guild everyone seems to know about?"

She remembers the Client mentioning it back on Nevarro, but so much has changed and she's learned so much about the Mandalorian since then that Hanna hasn't cared much.

But now they've met someone else who assumed things about him because of this Guild.

"Just certain kinds of people," he corrects her.

Which might be a slam.

Or it could be that he's offering her an out, an excuse for not knowing. She'll go with that one.

"So ...does that mean I don't get to know about it?" she asks when they both stop to let the kid try to play tug-of-war with a fat worm he'd caught the tail of.

"No," the Mandalorian answers. "It's not much more than it sounds like," he looks away in apparent distaste when the worm pops from the ground with a soft _squelch_ and the kid licks his lips watching the wiggling form. "It's an organized way of bounty hunting. A client pays the Guild; whoever leads in the area divvies up jobs, and a percentage of the take goes to the Hunter when the job's done."

"Kind of a bummer that you don't get the entire payout when you're the one doing the hard work," Hanna is more used to the kid's exotic eating and so doesn't mind as he slurps the worm down like a noodle.

"Yes. But it's a steady stream through the Guild, and there's a reputation behind the name. The rates are high for clients because completion is practically guaranteed. If a hunter fails, there's no shortage of other hunters to transfer the job to..."

"I see ...so that's why there were people trying to stop you leaving Nevarro," she supposes. "That was ...other Guild hunters?"

"Yes"

"So that's why so many people know about us ...we were a job through The Guild?"

It's not so much a question as her coming to understand the full picture. How broad the problem might be. Imperials searching for them. A well organized network of mercenaries on the lookout.

"... ...yes," his answer is a little more delayed as if he knows just what she's realizing.

"It wasn't an accusation," Hanna promises once they continue on their way now that the kid's dessert is finished.

"It's fine if it is," he responds, but his voice is clipped. Tight.

She has the distinct feeling that he is not, in fact, fine with it at all.

"I said we _were_ a job," she emphasizes this for his benefit. "That was then ..."

And now they're ...whatever they are.

The kid starts shuffling more slowly and murmuring quiet nonsense so Hanna scoops him up. Carries him now that he's getting sluggish.

.

The kid gets fussy as they walk, clearly tired but not ready for sleep without being tucked in a cozy basket. Meanwhile the Mandalorian has gone quiet. Whether because he simply has no more to say or because he's feeling crunchy about her words, she doesn't ask.

And he doesn't say.

She's used to his muted nature no matter the reason, so she just talks at the kid to try to distract him. When this fails and he remains squeaky and wiggling, she considers handing him off to the Mandalorian to make his best attempts at comfort.

But if he's in his head, he'll have no better lucky.

So Hanna bounces him and sways as they walk. Absently hums with hopes of lulling him into a doze.

.

"What is that?" the Mandalorian interrupts her.

Hanna looks left. Then right.

"What's what?"

A brief scoff statics out of his helmet.

"That song. You were humming the same one a while ago ...when you were trying to get him to sleep at night..."

"Oh, sorry ...I didn't realize," she feels a little bashful. "If I kept you up or-"

"That's not what I said," he corrects her even before she finishes. "Do you know sometimes you apologize for nothing?"

_Uh._ Sort of.

She hadn't really been aware she'd been doing it just then, but she knows she _does_ it, sure. She's learned to smooth-over complaints. Complaints mean someone is angry and is going to threaten to withhold payment, and no pay always ends up in trouble of one kind or another.

_'That's not what I said...'_

So. Perceived complaint, rather.

"Bad habit," she offers vaguely.

"So. What is it? "

"It's ...just a song my mom liked. One of her favorites..." Hanna can't help but smile a little bit even though it's a sad memory...it's also sort of not.

"How does it go?" he continues.

"You want me to sing it?" a blush joins Hanna's smile. "Out loud?"

He turns his helmet towards her as if to say:

Yes. Duh. That _is_ what I said.

"I can't ...maybe sometime when I can pretend you're not listening," she laughs at herself for caving to the pressure of him.

Surely he hadn't been expecting some kind of show necessitating much skill. Just a lullaby; nothing more than that.

But he feels like a harder audience than the kiddo, and she rarely does more than hum tunes at him, anyway. He is always content with that. Sometimes he even snuggles his head up against her neck to feel the noise vibrate in her throat. Which is warm and very sweet. Low pressure.

"Hmm ...what is it about?"

And imagine: he's usually trying to deny and stifle so much curiosity.

"Oh, um ...it's someone who lost a loved one they want back. They can't see them, anymore ...so they talk to the moon and the stars instead," she pats the kid's back, for he has gone still like he's listening, too. "They believe the person they love is on the other side of the same stars and knows they still love them. The song is about how they feel like that's true ...even if it's crazy."

It's quiet around them briefly except for the crackles of leaves and sticks under their feet.

"That's ..." _\- What...is foolish? Naive? Childish? -_ "...hopeful."

Hanna grins.

"Yeah. I think it is..."

Somehow, however unfairly, she hadn't expected him to notice. Or at least not to focus on it.

He says no more and they finish their walk in relative quiet.

Hanna can't bring herself to sing the song even though part of her wants to now that the Mandalorian has managed to be reverential to the memory she's shared. Instead she resumes humming to the kid and just assumes he can hear, too.

.

Back on the ship, Hanna manages to get the kid to sleep fairly quickly. He still had a full tummy and had done quiet a bit of walking. It been a pretty big day, so he squeezes onto his blanket and sleeps deeply in his small nest of a bed.

They're still sitting on solid ground, and when she climbs up into the cockpit she sees that it's because the Mandalorian is running diagnostics. Apparently he understands why Cara wants another alpha out of her territory, but he must not think it's a dire situation. They're not running from her; they can at least take the time to makes sure they're aces before taking off again.

Which is good to know.

She is sure the Mandalorian knows that she's there, but she's quiet while she watches the readout scroll over the far left console.

Something pops for maintenance on the forward, starboard landing gear as well as the rear deflector mechanism. Ultimately the kind of issues that wouldn't be emergent if they really needed to get jumping, but since that doesn't seem to be the case:

"I can go take a look," Hanna offers. "You should eat..."

He cuts her a look, and she can't help but wonder if she's about to get told off for trying to make choices for the both of them on his ship. She's possibly entered a no-go zone. Danger. Too far.

However, she refrains from an apology before she knows that one is due.

"Alright," he nods and shoves himself up to his feet. "I guess you know where tools are..."

"Yeah," Hanna relaxes enough to chuckle and lets him lead the way back downstairs.

She slides happily down the ladder and then bypasses the Mandalorian when he heads left to the galley.

"I'll make a ruckus if I need to come back in," she promises on her way to engage the external lights before finding a toolbox to roll out.

.

Hanna finds that it's incredibly peaceful to work outdoors here.

The air is balmy. A light breeze tickles the leaves and the hair that's fallen around her face from her work bun. She can distantly hear some birds and bugs.

It's a calm mixture at the peripheral of her awareness while she buries her mind into the work in front of her. Something that's not scary. There's no undercurrent of danger, only the task at hand.

Not that all of her memories of work are fun, nor had she ultimately chosen a mechanical speciality because it had caught her fancy on its own at a young age. No. This work had been a necessity, and sometimes there is resentment tied up in that.

But she understands it. She knows the parts spread before her. She knows what tools she'll likely need and how to use them. Troubleshooting is no problem; it's satisfying and it's a familiar routine. It means the problem's solvable.

It's not the Empire. Not hunters. It's not unnamed abilities that are beautiful and scary and ...

This is _simple_.

And it's comfortable.

"Sss," she hisses when her hand slips and she nicks a finger on exposed plating.

She pauses in her work to stare at the side of her finger, waiting to see if its just a scuff or if it's going to bleed.

"Alright?" the Mandalorian's ducking under the rear landing gear on his way toward her.

After eating he'd come to check on her progress and then climbed up to get to work on the shielding in back.

"Yeah," she rubs the skin that had been caught, now satisfied it hadn't scraped deeply enough to be of any concern. "I guess I should be wearing gloves," she darts a glance at his own pair.

"Are they lax with safety on Castilon?"

"Surprisingly no," Hanna snorts, for serious injury meant a loss in productivity. "All the gloves you have are too big - I figured they'd get in the way."

"Hmm..." when he reaches her he glances at the open panelling and the small meter she has in her hands testing the conductivity of her work. "Do you hear that?" he tilts his face down to her when he speaks again.

He sounds perfectly calm, despite the ominous words.

For a moment she's confused.

Then she engages her ears appropriately. Some of the sounds of wildlife have faded, highlighting the crunching of underbrush that has gotten louder. Is growing nearer along with a soft, rhythmic whirling.

She shouldn't have been so happy to get engrossed in her work.

"...someone's coming," she tenses.

"Yes"

"Shit..." she cranes her neck to get a look over his shoulder.

It doesn't seem like anyone with good news or fun intentions would approach under the cover of dark.

Hanna also feels foolish. She hadn't spotted Cara in the diner until the Mandalorian had mentioned it. She hadn't kept herself alert to enough of the external world while working just now. The Mandalorian is more practiced, sure, but she shouldn't be allowing herself to get so comfortable in his presence that she leaves all of this up to him.

"Relax," he curls a hand around her side to press her back slightly and stop her searching. "There's only two of them. Get back on the ship," he presses a control on his vambrace to lower the side hatch so a smaller ramp descends near them.

She glances at the small mess she's made while working.

"I'll pack it up. Go check on the kid," he's pressing at her lower back now. Not hard. Not raising his voice. Subtle. Like he wants to simply slide her out of the way and slip them out of here without incident. "Go on..."

Something in her doesn't want to leave him out here alone with unexpected guests, but he would probably laugh at that. And checking on the kid isn't a horrible idea. He could be trying to toddle down the rear ramp right now for all she knows.

Hanna nods and steps away to disappear up the hatch, which hisses closed again right behind her.

.

As it turns out, the kid is precisely where she'd left him.

So then she quietly creeps towards the back of the ship to try to hear what's going on, but it takes a while before the chatter becomes clear.

"...but you don't even know what the job is!"

A job, huh?

"I know that you don't have enough," the Mandalorian's deeper voice is apathetic to the eagerness in the stranger's tone.

"Well, we'll pay you more when we have it!" the same voice pleads when the Mandalorian comes into view shoving the toolbox in front of him.

"Yes, after the next harvest ... ...oh. Hello," one of the men trying to bargain falters when he sees Hanna leaning against the workbench at the top of the ramp.

"Please," the other man's spots her, too, and pleads anew, though surely whatever job they want done is not up her alley. "We can pay; we only need help!"

"Don't talk to her," the Mandalorian growls and gives the supply box a shove so that it rolls far enough for Hanna to catch it and finish hauling it inside. "Good luck," there's finality in his voice and stiffness in his stance when he stops, arms crossed, to gaze down at the interlopers.

"Fine, lets just go ...thanks for nothing..." one of the men throws his hands up.

"Great, it took us the whole day to get here ...now we're heading back in the dark to the middle of nowhere with no protection..."

"Where do you live?" the Mandalorian drops his arms despite the resolve he's openly declared.

"On a farm; weren't you listening?"

Hanna snorts. Those are sassy words for someone looking for assistance.

"In the middle of nowhere?" the Mandalorian clarifies.

"Yes..."

"Do you have lodging?" the Mandalorian inclines his head to include Hanna, now, never mind he'd wanted them to ignore her seconds ago.

"Yes, of course!" the less-sassy one nods eagerly.

The Mandalorian turns to watch Hanna, who watches him right back.

It feels like he's asking her opinion without words. His posture is open, like he's waiting to hear her thoughts. That is admittedly a nice notion. She feels a little warm about it, but she also isn't sure she's qualified to weigh-in on this. She has no idea what job they're asking him to do. Beyond that, she's a little biased - _she already likes this planet_.

"A farm might be interesting," she breaks the silence swirling between them all and gives the Mandalorian a shrug. "If you like the job..."

An opinion but deferential to his expertise all the same. To whatever reason he'd told them _no_ in the first place. He nods and turns back to stare down at the newcomers. She watches his trigger finger tap against his thigh while he thinks it all out.

"Come in here. Give us a hand..."

The two men scramble to board, and the Mandalorian points out boxes they could start unloading. Once they're working, he crooks his finger at Hanna so she'd follow him further into the cargo hold.

"Once we're packed I'm going to go find Dune," he flips up both cots and grabs the strap of her bag so he can swing it her way.

"Really? I thought they weren't paying enough for just you," he clearly already knows she had been eavesdropping so there's no point in pretending.

"A place for us to lay low is more valuable," he starts piling his own humble belongings into a crate that's already laying open.

"You don't think she'll mind?"

Because that's not the impression Hanna had gotten. What with them prepping to leave the planet and all.

"Not if I cut her in on it," the Mandalorian doesn't sound bothered and seals the box before dropping it to the floor and giving it a kick so that it slides across the metal floor towards the ramp.

"Is this ...a great idea? To rope her in and commit to a place we don't know?" she's a little hesitant to question him, but he's putting trust in people he's hardly spoken to.

She glances unconsciously at the kid's bunk, where he's hidden for now behind the sliding door.

"Not committed," he steps close to quietly edit her since the men have stomped back up to grab more boxes, "but for now I'm willing to humor them."

It sounds a lot different when he puts it that way and she grins a little, but then hides it by chewing worriedly on her lip.

"Stop that," he pokes her lip in order to push it from between her teeth, then drops his hand to her shoulder. "If we don't like it, we leave."

Hanna stares upwards and wishes, not for the first time, that she could be positive she's meeting his eye. It would feel nice. Reassuring.

The way he squeezes her shoulder is an adequate - _and almost equally as human_ \- substitute.

"The kid's things should fit in your bag..." he hints when he steps away to pack a few more things.

"Right..."

The kid doesn't have much and everything of his is minuscule, so of course it will all fit. She packs his few clothes and makeshift toys before rousing him since she does not suppose he is going to be pleased.

Indeed, he chirps and fusses and tries to bury his faces into the blanket that she's also bundled into her arms.

"I know, I know...you can go back to sleep," she sways on the spot and pats his back lightly.

Some of his favorite things. All of which she's learned over the past...how long, now? A year? She recalls, standing here on this new planet with a couple strangers craning their necks to see what she's holding, how foreign the kid had been to her once upon a time, too. How she'd felt a little scared of him. Definitely intimidated by him. But by now she has run for him. Fought for him. Ignored pain for him.

It suddenly feels a little overwhelming to be facing the unknown with him again; she feels a little choked up about it.

He goes still in her arms, and when she looks down he's lifted his head from the fuzzy grey blanket to blink up at her and give her a little _'merlp.' _Like he _knows_.

"It's alright," Hana whispers.

Then jolts and looks up when a large crate scuffs across the floor and the Mandalorian regains the other men's attention by barking at them that it's the last one. They carry it away together, and then the Mandalorian's headed back their way.

He stops a couple feet away and cocks his head curiously. Like he sees through her, too.

"We're fine ...I guess I'm a little nervous, is all..."

"If those two are the best this farm town has to send out into the night, they're no threat," he assures her.

Hanna grins. Maybe that's nice to hear, but she's also heard the men prattling away to the Mandalorian about the raiders whenever they come back on board to grab something.

Still, she's already committed herself to taking cues from him when it comes to safety vs. danger.

"Let's go. I'll lock up. Here," the Mandalorian removes her bag from her back and shoulders it.

"Thanks..."

He moves properly behind her once she heads for the exit, and he catches a finger into her belt loop, tugging her back just slightly. Hanna's arms tighten reflexively on the kid as she tenses, but then something cool and metal slides along her lower back. Nestles in between her pants and underwear once he releases her and rearranges her jacket to cover it up.

"Keep that while I go get the soldier..."

Hanna keeps walking, for the men are waiting for them, but twists her head around expectantly for more information.

"I'm not bringing a whole group to surprise her in the middle of the night," he explains, reading her frown for what it is. "What did I say about them?"

"They're not a threat," she parrots dully.

"They have no weapons. They were hardly going to push when I said no," he actually extrapolates his reasons for this assessment. "They aren't hunters; they farm krill..."

"What are krill?" Hanna wonders and quietly hopes the kid will want to eat it.

"Exactly," he pats her back right over the butt of the blaster there as one last reminder.

"Thanks..."

.

"I have one errand to run," the Mandalorian announces once they're off the ramp and he's punched a code into his vambrace to seal it behind them. "Load that," he tosses Hanna's rucksack to one of the men. "And give me those credits," he holds his hand out to the other.

The man looks unsure but drops a plump sack into his waiting palm.

"I won't be long ...wait right here. Don't follow me," he orders, twisting his shielded gaze from one man to the next. "And don't bother her," he juts a finger at Hanna. "Don't lay a finger on the kid."

Neither man raises any objections to this list of rules, so the Mandalorian nods. He's already said his piece to Hanna, as well, so he turns on his heel and heads out into the night like he knows exactly where he's going.

Hanna can't imagine how he does, but she's not the Hunter.

.

Whatever the men thought the Mandalorian meant by "bothering" her, neither of the men seem to think it includes talking to her.

Hanna figures that the Mandalorian _had _meant to include doing just that, but _she_ is the ultimate judge and their conversation does not bother her.

She learns what krill are, for example. They sound comparable to shrimp in her mind; she hasn't had any in years, but she does think that the kid will like them. She also learns their names are Caben and Stoke, a detail the Mandalorian probably had not bothered with.

And they have many questions about the Mandalorian. Ones she makes no qualms about not answering. It's his business, she tells them. Reminds them that he wouldn't appreciate their nosiness.

They seem minimally sheepish.

She also fields many questions about the kid. She hardly has more answers for these questions, either. However, she can and does assure them that the Mandalorian is not a green alien subspecies, that the kid is _not_ a biological son they've created together.

.

"Prying counts as bothering her," the Mandalorian announces when he rounds the ship into this particular conversation.

He's closely followed by Cara, who looks highly amused.

The men jump immediately to their feet and clamber to the front of the cart to tell the trolly droid it's nearly time to head back to their home coordinates. Meanwhile Hanna's pretending she wasn't as surprised by the pair's arrival as the famers.

"No trouble?" the Mandalorian looks her up and down while Cara's tossing her bag aboard.

"None ...I'm just up stretching my legs. The said we won't be there til late morning at the earliest..."

"Great. Sounds like a good time to sleep," Cara hops easily onto the trailer and pushes her pack around to get comfortable next to it.

"She's right. We should settle in," the Mandalorian reaches around Hanna to extract the blaster from her back and then ushers her forward to go first.

The kid had already explored the entirety of the trailer, dragging his blanket from box to box while doing so, and settled himself at the head. He's still bundled there watching them.

Hanna climbs up near him and sits next to him, stretching her legs out in front of her. The box behind her isn't comfortable, exactly, but with a little squirming she's sure she'll find a suitable position.

She somehow expected that the Mandalorian would come sit on the kid's other side, but he climbs in and pats her feet out of his way instead. Once he sits himself back against the edge of the cart she sees that this way he can scan whatever land Cara can't, as they're facing opposite directions. After a few moments of consideration she also realizes he can keep the droid at the opposite corner in his line of sight as well.

Everything is tactical. Second nature to him.

She's still learning.

But she's pretty sure that his lap isn't tactical, so she stretches her legs back out just the way they'd been, resting her ankles on his thigh guard. He gives her a look but doesn't lift them away, so she must've been right.

Lap isn't tactical. At least if there's no direct threat looming.

Noted.

Instead he pats her knee and then slouches down a bit, spreading his arms wide along the edge of the cart.

"Get some rest..." he sighs and tilts his head back.

She's not sure that she will with the uneven gate of the cart, but it's worth a try so she wiggles around to find a good place for her shoulders to rest.

Beside her, she watches the kid lean back and stretch out his tiny little arms like the Mandalorian had just done. He even gives a similar, if much shorter and higher, sigh of contentment.

She glances up at Cara to see if she'd seen the twin-like move, but the women's eyes are closed.

Hanna grins at her private entertainment anyway.

* * *

_**Thanks, all, for the reviews/favs. I'm stoked that you're enjoying and keep checking in! :]**_

_naria4** \- Nope, I've never read A Court of Thorn and Roses. I used the name Cassian as a call-out to RogueOne...I think that's the only place I personally know the name from :) **_


	11. Learning curve

_**Hi all! Thank you for reading and reviewing so far - your comments give me life :) Such happy little moments to log in and see them. **_

_**I hope you are all doing well and taking care of yourselves. **_

_**Enjoy:**_

* * *

**Chapter 11: Learning Curve**

Hanna remembers that she'd wished for a temperate planet with lots of grass.

They say to be careful what you wish for.

But so far, whoever _they_ are ...can suck it.

Because she has no regrets.

.

It's been a few days and their new home isn't old yet. She's excited to get out and about after she's eaten a bit and fed the kid breakfast. Even though the farm isn't vast. Even though nothing's changed from the day before. It doesn't matter.

It's all great to her.

...maybe not knowing Klatoonians who might ransack the place are nearby. That's not so great.

But so far so good.

Cara doesn't think they'll come back so soon after sweeping through the place.

The Mandalorian grunts in a non-committal fashion whenever she makes this point.

.

"Hanna, w-"

Said Mandalorian is shoving through the doorway when Hanna looks up from her bed in surprise.

"Oh!" she twirls arounds so her back is to him.

She swipes her t-shirt off of her cot as she does so and starts to wiggle it on over her head.

"I, uh..."

The Mandalorian doesn't often stutter, so there's that. Then his ineffectual sentence is followed by a small ruckus at the door. Hanna glances over her shoulder to see the Mandalorian staring at the door jamb because his attempted exit is blocked by Cara.

_She_, incidentally, is laughing loudly at this.

It's not as though Hanna had been naked. Her bra and pants are firmly in place. There's nothing to _really_ be bashful about...

It was just a simple mistake.

Only they've managed to be crammed together on his ship and in this barn for quite some time without any such blunders. Between using the fresher on the Razor Crest and having rigged up some privacy curtains here in the barn, they've maneuvered around the issue of modesty without much effort. Certainly no formal planning.

"It's fine," Hanna announces when she turns back around.

She needs to because Cara's not backing off to allow a graceful retreat and the Mandalorian apparently isn't keen on making a whole scene. He's just standing there stiffly.

He darts a brief look before trusting and stepping into the place properly again.

"Didn't know you were a prude, Mando," Cara claps his shoulder and still looks delighted when she follows him in.

The Mandalorian jerks her a sharp look that screams "_glare_" even to someone new to his mannerisms. Not that Cara seems effected in the least. It's sort of a wonder he doesn't shove her right back out the door.

"Sorry," Hanna hides her needless blush by busying herself with the kid, squatting down by the small crib the village had gifted to them.

They had tried to refuse it. They'd learned how to make-do with lining boxes or occasionally co-bedding; the kid was used to it. But the women who'd brought it by had insisted. They hadn't had such a small child in their village for several years and were happy to help the young family.

_Family_.

This interpretation of their situation explains why Cara had been leant her own small lodge while they share the somewhat spacier barn. No one (save the first two over-eager folks they'd met) has suggested out loud that the alien baby is their biological child. But they'd shown up as a nuclear unit, with Cara making a point of hovering more peripherally, so it seems they are simply accepted and treated as a family. If anyone who's been to the barn noted their sleeping arrangement - _the Mandalorian's bed tucked near the door and Hanna's off by a side wall - _they don't seem to care.

Whatever the case, they aren't arguing as they both want the kid close at hand.

"It's fine," the Mandalorian assures, though his tone isn't entirely convincing.

"I thought you were both out scouting the area..." Hanna explains why she hadn't tucked herself behind her curtain and the absence of a locked door.

"We're headed out now..."

"He wanted to come let you know," Cara's still smirking like she's glad of her choice to tag along.

She looks like mischief. Hanna imagines what's just happened will be fodder for conversation _\- possibly mockery_ \- on their trek into the woods.

She isn't quite sure how to feel about that.

"Oh. Okay."

"C'mon," the Mandalorian pushes Cara's shoulder to spin her in a sloppy about-face, which the solider allows. "We'll be back before dark..."

"Alright"

"That's fair warning"

Cara gets another shove between her shoulder blades, but that only has her cackling anew on the way out the door and down the porch.

Hanna grins softly after them.

_'Meep_,' the kid grabs her attention.

"I know, I know ...you want to go outside," she interprets. "Me too..."

.

By afternoon, Hanna is busy.

She'd helped herself to work around the farm once she's spotted an immobile, roughed-up droid stranded between two of the ponds.

She'd learned from Felix, one of the men working on re-shaping the banks of some of the manmade pools that had been trampled, that it had been destroyed in the most recent raid. While their trolly droid had been unscathed, a few others weren't so lucky. A couple of the machines they used for hauling had been fried by the Klatoonians when they tore through.

So Hanna's sitting in the grass with the backplate open on one of them. Felix had helped her find what tools he could, which unfortunately isn't much. Shovels, axes, wheelbarrows, hoes, mallets ...these they had plenty of, but small tools for more delicate work are harder to come by here.

But she knows how to make do with barebones.

.

"Hanna..."

"Omera, hi," she looks up to greet the older woman when she hears her name.

"Good afternoon. Here, you should take this... it's warm out..."

She extends a wide mug of water when she nears, and Hanna accepts it gladly.

She is used to worse heat and tells Omera so, but it _is_ a warm day. Muggy in a way she's not accustomed to. It makes her hair go a little wavy.

"..where is it you're from, then?" Omera takes advantage of her mention of her past and kneels in the grass to join her.

"...a lot of places," Hanna tells her truthfully.

"But _where_? Go on. I haven't always lived here, either," Omera relates.

Which, honestly, comes as something of a surprise. This seems like a place people don't come and go from. Sheltered. Not in a _bad_ way ...but in a warm, insular way.

"No?"

"No. I came here to find a safe place to raise my daughter," she nods off to where Hanna knows some of the children are playing.

She follows her gaze, anyway.

Omera's girl, Winta, is one of the bolder children who has dared to approach the town strangers and ask about the new kid. They've now been including the boy whenever possible for the past couple days.

"I see..."

There is no need to ask what she had been seeking safety from. There's been such a long list in recent history.

"It's a good thing to do, especially with a family to worry about..."

Family.

"Mmhmm," Hanna continues not to argue the word since they don't have a better, non-suspicious explanation for themselves. "It's much better than the refueling station I was working on for so many years," she moderately repays the other woman's sharing.

Omera nods sagely.

"I can see why that's no place for a young one..."

"No kidding"

Almost getting trampled in the narrow hallways. Fleeing planet-side. Hiding in the masses. Stealing away into the hull of a New Republic cargo ship.

No. Castilion hadn't been kind to the kid.

Most places haven't been.

But here...

"Thank you. For putting us up."

Hanna has said so to multiple people, Omera already included. Omera had been the one to help them get settled and ask what more then needed and to help them find the sheets they'd made themselves partitions with. That had cottoned her onto the issues surrounding the Mandalorian's helmet, but she'd been respectful about it. Then, at least.

She's not a town leader - _not formally_. Everyone orbits around and takes cues off a different, slightly older, woman. Nadette. Omera does seem to have a finger on the pulse of everything, though.

It makes sense if she's from somewhere bigger, Hanna thinks. More bustling. If she's escaped a place of turmoil, of course she likes to have her eyes and ears wide open.

"We're glad to host you," Omera remains warm.

"But?" Hanna senses more.

"No buts. There aren't stipulations...only that we're curious who we've welcomed. We're grateful to your friends," she's smiling but there's something vaguely shifty in it. "Only ...they don't say much.

Ah.

Facts, ma'am.

"No. They don't, do they?" Hanna smiles softly.

Omera's shoulders sag like she's relieved Hanna's not taking offense.

"It's ...worrying"

Unknown quantities in this haven she's brought her daughter to. People who don't want to be known won't digest easily in a place like this.

Hanna, on the other hand, tends to move _toward_ rather than against. It has always been safer. Find your people. Check if you fit in. See where you belong.

Adapt.

Survive.

She'll live on a warm farm. She'll also make do on a chilly, cramped spacecraft. Sure she knows which she prefers, but she'll get by in either place.

If she has to.

Cara and the Mandalorian ...they'll like what they like and discard what they don't. They'll forge what they want where they are. They're not going to smile to put others at ease. Not until they're good and ready to.

In an entrenched place like this, there's no wonder it makes people wary. Even in their gratitude.

"There's nothing to worry about. Or ..." - that's not precisely true, is it? - "Not from them, I mean."

It's quiet between them for a moment.

"...I recognized Cara's tattoos the moment I saw her..."

Her and the rest of the galaxy.

"She's been honest about what she is," Hanna points out fairly.

"I know ...I know, but seeing these things up close again," Omera sighs and stops herself from going far in that direction.

"It's scary," Hanna has been afraid of enough things that it's not something she thinks the other woman should be embarrassed of.

"Extremely," Omera smiles in a relieved way again. "But she seems genuine..." she's talking more to herself, now.

Hanna thinks so, too. Doesn't detect that Cara would bother pretending much of anything for anyone.

"...and the Mandalorian," Omera plows on. "He's very mysterious."

"I suppose," Hanna reticent to speak on this topic.

"He shares even less than Cara..."

"Not just to you and your people. He's ...very reserved," Hanna feels protective about the implications that he's hiding something.

Not that he needs help protecting himself, all things considered.

"...does he have a name? People are asking," Omera tells her bluntly.

Yes. He does.

But that's _Hanna's_ game. Even if she wanted help figuring it out, she doubts anyone else is invited.

"He responds to Mando"

_'Stop right there, Mando!'_

"That's very impersonal," Omera frowns.

"That's what I said," Hanna chuckles as she remembers thinking just that.

"Well?"

"...he's just private, Omera. That's all," Hana promises

"I wish I was okay with that..."

"He's not _hiding_ something. He's not planning to back out on the deal or take advantage."

"I want so badly to believe that ... ...if I could look him in the eye, I feel that I would know..." Omera sighs.

It seems rude to promise her that that's never going to happen.

"I can see what you mean..."

Hanna has thought it before, hasn't she? Of course. Adept as she's getting at reading his tone and body language, she'd love to know where he's looking or see initial reflexes flit through his eyes. She's spent an unhelpful amount of time imagining how expressive he probably is. His mask hides everything for him; when was the last time he actually had to censor his face?

Stupid to think about, really.

"Have you seen him?"

Omera asks like she wonders whether Hanna even knows him.

Which she does, doesn't she? Or is getting to know him, at the very least. Seeing his face, looking him in the eye ...it's a wide societal norm, but it's not a necessity.

Is it?

"I've seen enough"

Which is true ...though suddenly she's not so sure it _feels_ true.

Hanna's never talked out loud about these things. Doesn't know if this is doubt that Omera is unwittingly sewing.

"... ...then I will take your word for it," Omera says at length.

So there must have been conviction in her words. More confidence in her voice than she currently feels with this unexpected gnawing in her gut.

Hanna smiles to back up her declaration anyway.

"You can"

"I appreciate that ...and your work here," the other woman gestures to the droid.

Hanna swallows a "gotta earn my keep" joke. For all her concerns and questions, Omera has insisted there aren't extra strings attached to their stay. She doesn't want her to think she's given a different impression.

"It's no trouble. I'm happy to help."

Factual.

.

.

"What's this?"

The Mandalorian doesn't sound as happy for her to help when he finds her later still tinkering.

"Hello to you, too," she greets once he stops next to her and stares blankly down at the machine. "I'm trying to fix the damage from the last raid. Another one got fried, too, but they already dragged it to storage. I'll check it out later..."

Some sort of '_tutt_' comes from his helmet.

"What?"

"Nothing"

Hanna raises a brow at him. Has to squint a bit against the sun when she tilts her face up to study him curiously.

"I don't like _any_ model of droid," he steps to the side so he stands between her and the light rather than have it shine off his beskar directly into her face. "Not when living hands will do..."

Ah. Yes.

Hanna understands not trusting an armed droid programmed for unemotional destruction, but she's worked alongside diagnostic and repair bots enough to appreciate their potential.

"Well, it seems like they have enough manual labor to keep them busy," she scans the farm.

Half the ponds are under some sort of restoration. Most of the others host residents wading in to work on making-up a fraction of their harvest.

"Mmm..."

"Don't worry. You could take 'em. They're old," she taps a knuckle on the semi-rusted edge of the droid's leg.

"Not funny," he looks away from the busy workers toward her again.

A little of funny. These mechs are just regular old grunts.

"I don't think anyone here knows anything more than basic maintenance," Hanna glances off towards some of the sturdy farmers again. "It looks like these bots were running on hopes and dreams even before all of this. They were going to scrap and sell parts ... ...they hardly have tools for this work. I don't suppose you'll lend some from your ship..." she sneaks a side-eyed look up at him.

"Wouldn't put a bet on it...no," he confirms readily and pokes at the sling on her back.

Like the crib, they'd been gifted a tightly woven sling to carry the kid. Nadette had explained they often used wraps and slings on the farm so mothers and fathers could farm and stay close to their little ones simultaneously.

_'Or cook or walk or play with their other kids!' _she'd gone on so that the guests didn't think they were expected to hop into the ponds and roll up their sleeves.

It has become a treasured gift. A way to keep the kid in sight while they acclimate to a new place, especially now they no longer have that bassinet. The strap adjusts easily so even the Mandalorian has used it once or twice.

"Oh," Hanna feels him searching. "He's playing," she jerks her chin toward the next pond and watches he Mandalorian follow. "I'm not a fan of him by the water, but he was getting grouchy about joining them. They've promised to stay close..."

They watch while the kid toddles after a ball one of the other children rolls. Then he gets distracted by a fat toad. He returns to the ball game only after some prodding from Winta.

.

Shortly after Hanna returns to her work, the Mandalorian stamps over to go fetch the kid. The children see him coming, and they don't abandon the kid in fright but they do fade back like repellent magnets and give each of the Mandalorian's movements a wide berth. Disappointment is etched on their faces after he collects the boy, but no one protests out loud.

He returns the kid to the sling on Hanna's back determinedly.

"You didn't have to. They were doing like I asked ...they seem to like him," she eyes the children and waves to the ones still watching them.

A couple wave back shyly.

"No, you're right about the water," the Mandalorian huffs a sigh when the kid worms his way back out of the sling right in front of his face. "We should figure out if he can swim..."

He relents and picks the kid back up before he can dart back towards his new friends.

"I guess his arms seem ineffectual for that," Hanna eyes the stubby arms that are attempting to push at the fingers containing him.

The Mandalorian snorts.

.

He lingers a while, dutifully ignoring the kid's escape ventures.

Hanna doesn't mind. Despite whatever malcontent Omera's questioning had managed to dredge up, his presence here is comfortable no matter his quiet or disinterest in lending a hand. It's nice. Reassures her that she appreciates their time together even if he still has mysteries. She has some of her own riddles to straighten out, too.

When the other children move off to play elsewhere, the kid finally forgoes his wiggling. Only then does the Mandalorian squat down and release the kid to amuse himself in the grass.

He nudges Hanna's hip once the kid proves he's not making a dash after his compatriots.

"Hmm?"

"Cara and I learned a lot while we were out ..." he shares quietly. "They're not going to like it..."

* * *

'They won't like it' turns out to be a gross understatement.

The village had been beside themselves at the suggestion that they would need to leave the finely-cultivated paddock their ancestors had created here. The notion that nothing could be done about their predicament or the AT-ST had been flatly dismissed.

Hanna had been certain they were going to leave the planet ASAP.

Right up until plans for a homemade army had begun to take root.

The Mandalorian, shockingly enough, had been the one to give the idea first breath. Sure he is made for battle, but shoulder-to-shoulder with these rag-tag forces?

_'Are you having a heat stroke in there?' Cara, convinced as she initially was that it was a fool's errand, had poked the Mandalorian's jaw. _

_It had been a testament to his decided esteem of Cara that she hadn't been admonished for - or stopped altogether from-touching. _

_'I don't want to leave yet'_

And so stubbornness had hatched a plan to fortify the village and train a militia of farmers.

.

To their credit, the village is stepping up.

Several days into digging, bracing, and training, they're really getting somewhere under the expert eyes of Cara and the Mandalorian.

There is something comforting in the air of camaraderie that is permeating the place. However, there is also tension underlying every lesson and all conversations, and that is admittedly very nerve-wrecking.

.

"Do it again."

Speaking of tension, there is an edge in the Mandalorian's voice when he orders Hanna around during their impromptu shooting lesson.

She had joined a group practicing with rifles under his tutelage a few times already, but she had still been taken aback when he shoved a blaster pistol at her and insisted she start carrying it full-time.

Apparently the fact that she hadn't taken to the idea like a krill to water means she needs more practice.

So here they are out behind their barn-turned-home shooting at firewood.

"...this isn't a waste of ammunitions?" Hanna lowers the gun to check.

She's not a _horrible_ shot. A couple of the logs are smoking; another had fallen over completely.

"I have plenty of bolts. Go on," he turns away from her to gaze at the targets, arms crossed over his chest.

"...is something wrong?"

"Yes. You're not shooting."

Childish.

But somehow still powerful.

"Alright..."

She pulls her arms back up to aim and fire off a few rounds at the line of logs that are still standing. A couple hit. The others glance past the sides of the bark.

Not...awful?

"You're yanking at the trigger," he grades even though he isn't blatantly looking at her technique.

"Right ...smooth," she reminds herself of this instruction.

"Yes," he rasps. "Again."

Hanna wants to do as he says.

Also kind of thinks the abused firewood might need a break. It's going to burn to ash soon enough; maybe it could use some peace right now.

"Is ...something _else_ wrong?" she ventures. "You weren't so zealous this morning..."

A deep inhale raises his shoulders; then he exhales slowly.

"Yes," he turns his whole body her way. "You're hesitating."

"I'm...?"

"You didn't want that," he jabs a finger at the gun she's holding loosely _\- _but hopefully not irreverently - in her palm.

_'Weapons are a part of my religion." _

Right.

But she's not him. She can't be strong and ready the way he is. She wasn't trained for this. It's brave of him, and she admires that. It's ...alluring. Whatever. But this isn't her normal. She's willing to try. That's the kind of steady she can be.

It's all she can offer.

It has to count.

"Look, just because I'm not as experienced-"

"You _need_ to want that," he plows on just as insistently.

"Alright. I don't _want_ to have to use a gun. I'm sorry," but there's no point in pretending she's actually eager for the things that are coming their way.

It would be a lie.

They would both know it.

"That's not what I said," he bites, his tone suggesting that she's not listening at all. "You have to want to protect yourself. You have to want to fight back..."

"I do."

Truthful.

"Then you should _want _that gun. This isn't going to be a fistfight ..."

He's edging close to patronizing territory except that there's something quietly urgent about his words. Hanna can't bring herself to be offended.

"I know that..."

"Then no hesitating," he chops a hand through the air. "Anyone who comes through that barricade is getting shot."

That's the most succinct version of their plan. The nuts and bolts of it.

"I've shot someone before," she reminds him, but even as she says it she has to look away from him and it ruins the entire mood she'd been going for.

She's still not sorry for what she'd done. It's just ...very real. Because if she pretends, if she squints really hard, she can remove herself one step from a lot of things that she's been a party to lately.

But not that thing.

"And that was the right call"

Hanna nods. Pretends it's casual that she's scanning the farm for the kid right now instead of facing the person she's having a conversation with.

"I know. He was trying to take the kid. I would do it again..."

"I believe that," Hanna's a little surprise by that and side-eyes him while she replays his tone to check whether any deceit was there. "You have the right instincts," he grabs her elbow to turn her further in his direction again. "This won't be like Arvala ...they won't be wounded and crawling away from you. There won't be room for pity."

He's going to remind her of that night _now_? He hasn't mentioned it in weeks and weeks, but he's going to throw it in her face today as a moment of weakness?

Hanna tries to shrug her arm away but he doesn't let her.

"That was different," she snaps at him.

"I know it was," he nods calmly, not flinching at her glare and not releasing her arm. Steady. "Listen to what I'm saying. They'll be coming after you. They'll be coming at the kid."

So shoot first and ask questions later. Or never.

Like on Nevarro.

She's already done that once. She can do it again.

Fine. Point made.

It's nice to have a read on him again. Even more of a solace to realize he just wants her to be prepared. That he gives a shit about what's going to happen her.

He's not exactly being straightforward. But still.

"...and you," she adds, though she knows he doesn't really need the defending.

But it seems important that she include him. Just in case he'd left himself out purposefully. Like he's under the assumption that it wouldn't be a motivator for her at all. She doesn't want to get into it and embarrass herself, but she doesn't want to let him get away with running around with ridiculous ideas either.

He pauses.

Then let's her go.

"Yes."

"I get it ...and I can do that. I think I just..." she tries to decide why she'd been so surprised to be handed the gun. "I guess I was surprised that you wanted me to start carrying it now. There hasn't exactly been a timeline on all of this," she gestures vaguely to the tall fence that's already completed along the North and West perimeter.

"Every day further from the last raid increases the chance they'll come sniffing around..."

Scary.

"Yeah. Fair point."

"So do it one more time," he orders, this time with less heat then before.

.

.

Keeping this entire discussion in mind, Hanna takes it upon herself in the next days to absorb as much as possible. To study the fence and memorize where the tiny gaps have been made in case their own people need them. To make a mental map of the trenches dug in the interior of the village should they need to fall back and hunker-down. To make a plan of where she will go if she has to run and re-group. An out of the way place she might hide herself if she gets hurt.

And preparing means learning anything she can.

So she catches Cara after she'd gotten a group together to review some fighting skills with the homemade spears some of the villagers had made. Just to pick her brain.

Getting her opinion.

Asking some what-ifs.

It is a fruitful endeavor. Cara likes to talk about several things, and fighting is one of them.

"...and they have those mean snouts, so there's more bones to bust if you have to get up in their face," she enthusiastically waves a hand around her own mouth once they've finished shadowboxing how to clinch someone up and introduce your knee to their face. _Rudely_.

A thing Cara allegedly enjoys doing very much.

And Hanna wholeheartedly believes it.

They have devolved from the original conversation, but Cara is a well of information anyway. Tips. Encouragements. She's a very good teacher, especially given how reticent she had been to this whole idea in the first place. She explains herself with gusto and then gives demonstrations with even more.

Not that Hanna intends to try getting close enough to one of the Klatoonians to touch their face.

Even so. It's good information to have floating around her head.

.

"What the hell are you doing?" the Mandalorian soon makes himself known.

The last Hanna had seen of him he was checking the progress on the deep pool some of the townsmen are finishing up today. Now he's clutching the kid and stomping into their space with rigid shoulders.

And his comment isn't an ego-boost, to be honest. If he can't tell what they were doing from a glance, then she is in pretty atrocious shape.

"Pretty much what it looks like," she shrugs like it's no big deal and he hasn't insulted her efforts in the slightest.

"If you want to learn that, _I'll_ teach you."

Well, sure. Yeah. She's not going to turn that opportunity down, is she?

But damn.

"Nice to see you have confidence in me," Cara glares, her face now pinched uncomfortably tight.

"Enough," he twitches his gaze to her instead. "You know I do."

"Then you wanna tone it down?" she raises one of those dark brows in challenge.

"No," the Mandalorian's not flinching.

There's something between them at the moment that Hanna doesn't like. Something icy. Like there's something she's missing.

The kid must feel it, too, and he tilts his chin back to stare straight up at the Mandalorian, then centers his gaze curiously towards Cara. Hanna makes an attempt to remove him incase this is going to turn into a fight - _a way to blow of steam, as Cara has lovingly called their little sparring spats_ \- but the Mandalorian only tightens his hold.

"Come on," he turns his back on Cara carelessly and stalks away.

Hanna just watches him. She isn't sure if he had been talking to her, the kid, or both, and she tells Cara as much.

"Well, I sure as fuck wouldn't go after him," Cara only shrugs, sounding casual once more.

Something in Hanna likes this advice **very** much. Something that neighbors the part of her that had enjoyed miming driving her knee into Cara's solar plexus, then her nose.

And yet ...this behavior is unsettling. It is true that the Mandalorian has grown more tense the last couple days. That's to be expected. But he hasn't been this sharp and dismissive with her since those days in the desert.

The regression doesn't sit well.

So she does want to go after him.

To investigate. Not to reward poor behavior.

She's sure to clarify that to Cara.

"Oooo, are you gonna teach him a lesson? ...ugh, whatever," she snorts when Hanna only rolls her eyes. "You know where to find me if he's still being a miserable ass."

.

.

In the barn, the Mandalorian has set the kid at their small table and is pouring a cup of water before him. He looks round as she enters as if to check it's not Cara charging after him, but he returns to sliding the cup to the kid when he's reassured who's entered.

"Are you alright?"

His "yes" is gruff over his shoulder.

"So..."

The walk over here had been brief. In hindsight maybe she should have dragged her heels and made a detailed game plan for needling him.

But he goes on independent of such.

"Cara and I had an argument"

Hanna assumes he means besides the loaded disagreement she'd just witnessed.

"...about going on with all of this?"

That could explain why he doesn't want them wasting their time. However, backing out on on the arrangement will _not_ go over well with the villagers.

"No"

"Then...?"

"About you," he sighs but stands to face her head-on.

"About me?" Hanna can't think of much that this could - or at least _should_ \- entail. "Look, if I want to learn how to-"

"_I_ will teach you," he reiterates. "To fight and get out. When you _need_ to," he stresses this plan. "_She_ will teach you to run in headlong."

Hanna wonders at this.

Appreciates what he's offering, of course. That's obvious.

But she's still lost.

"...isn't that sort of the point?"

"No"

The kid sputters suddenly and coughs from drinking too fast. The Mandalorian swipes the cup away and watches him closely for a few moments to determine if more drastic measures are necessary.

The kid just clears his throat one more time and smiles upward.

"I don't mean all the time," Hanna plows on once he's clearly just fine. "I just mean for this. We-"

"No"

"Could you let me finish a thought?"

Reading her prickly tone, he pauses as if making sure to do so. Seeing if she will go on right this second. Then:

"Not even for this. Because you won't be there."

Hanna blinks.

Opens her mouth to protests but then closes it again to replay his words exactly. They scare her, she realizes.

"Just where do you think I will be?"

She has been displaced enough, thank you very much. For the first time in too long, she's finding things she _likes_. Not just things she can grin and bear.

.

He doesn't think she will be far away, as it turns out. Just not involved.

Which is ...a minor comfort so far.

She'll be out of the way. In a cooling cellar with the children and a few of the seniors no longer in shape to farm let along withstand any battle.

"...this is because of our conversation," she concludes. Can't help but feel a little betrayed by it. "You don't think I can do this. I _told_ you, I know that it's different now."

"No," he shakes his head. "That's _not_ it. I have more faith in your than I do many of them..."

So not necessarily much faith, really.

"Then what was the point of all of it? To teach me to shoot. Talking like I needed to know how to defend myself from them?"

Time better spent on something else.

"Because you do," she can feel his glare through his black visor from here. "You're going to have a gun - two, maybe. And you better damn well use them."

He only peels his gaze from hers to check on the distressed sounds coming from his shins. The kid is attempting to get his tiny cup back.

"Hold on - breathe a minute..."

He lets the runt fuss about this and looks round at Hanna again.

"...I don't understand. We promised this."

It's not as though she's looking forward to a fight. They have a good plan and confidence is growing, but Cara's made it entirely clear that it's a long-shot for this thing to plan out the way they want. Casualties are highly likely. Counter attacks must be expected. That doesn't sound like _fun_. Hanna doesn't thrive on competition. She doesn't want to be in danger...

She's just placed it in her mind as something that is inevitable. It's a thing they are doing. Period. A condition of their stay.

"Wrong. _I_ promised this," he corrects her. "I wagered my services to protect them, and then I hired Cara to help me. It's turned into all of this, but you didn't promise them anything. And don't look at me like that," this time he heads her off altogether rather than interrupt. "You're helping them your way. But this is my job."

He has her with semantics there. While she tries to find where she lands on this, he goes on:

"They've been talking about one or two able adults staying with the kids. A last defense if things go sideways," he leaves-off commentary on how likely that may be.

"Okay," Hanna's protective spirits approves of that plan. "...that makes sense."

He nods.

"So I volunteered you. This is _their _home. They're the ones refusing to leave. If they aren't feeble or tiny, none of them get to sit out," he lays things out as he sees them. "I won't allow it."

That ...also seems pretty fair. His and Cara's first suggestion - nay, their insistence - had been to go. Far away, preferably.

Alright. Metal man makes good points.

"It just ...kind of feels wrong," she admits.

"You don't have stakes here like they do. Your greatest stake is the kid," he reminds her needlessly. "...and I'm not leaving him with a bunch of children and grandmothers to -hey!"

The child, hands raised, has clearly had enough of playing keep-away. He'd summoned the cup back to himself. Some of the water sloshes over the side, but he holds the cup triumphantly between his hands despite his wet sleeves. He takes a sip and then starts smacking his lips emphatically.

"I get it. You're hungry," the Mandalorian grumbles and shepherds him back to the short table to re-pour more water.

Hanna moves further in and kneels at the table to open up the small sack of krill the Mandalorian had brought and starts shelling and tearing them apart. The kid has proven that he can swallow them whole, but she is sure some day their luck will run out and he'll choke in dramatic fashion.

"...so Cara disagrees, right?" Hanna returns to the topic. "She wants all hands on deck?"

"No. She knows I have valid points," the Mandalorian makes no qualms about that. "She just thinks I'm a chump for deciding without you..."

Well well well. Maybe Cara deserves a kiss.

"...oh, is that the word she used?" Hanna smirks, for she suspects not.

The Mandalorian snorts.

"Mmhmm...she has a point, you know," Hanna rips a third krill to pieces to slide in front of the kid, who cheers in merry victory. "I'd rather you not make a habit..."

She glances up to see him nod wordlessly. She's not sure that means he really agrees, but he's not scoffing or turning his back on this request.

"What you're saying makes sense," she adds for his benefit. "I'm not an unreasonable person..."

"I know that," he concedes quickly, making Hanna smiles

"Then I don't like that this is the first I'm hearing about this," she explains, and if he means what he'd said he should _get_ that. "It's clearly been an issue for a while ...a whole discussion."

She's not a leader here or part of planning this insurrection, so it's fine if she's not part of the initial conversation. Pretty expected. Definitely excusable. But she would like to be clued in a little quicker.

"...I understand."

"Okay..." Hanna sighs and pushes herself up to her feet, still watching the kid and calculating whether she has time to step out and get food for herself or if she should just wait for him.

"...okay?" the Mandalorian checks.

"Yeah," she ticks her shoulders in a shrug and tucks some hair behind her ears. "It feels a lot like I'm bailing on them, but I get what you're saying ... ...and it would be hard to leave him with danger that close by."

It's not the first time she's thought of that. She had certainly never planned to put him in a sling and carry him into battle, but the thought of leaving him with the other children with a threat looming ...is not a pleasant one.

"Good. Thank you," he adds hastily. "I ...can'd do what I need to do if you're out there, too. And if I'm worried about the kid. I need you there with him ...you're who I trust."

Hanna can't help herself feeling a little proud at that. Definitely feels warm in her chest over his concern. But she tries not to read much into it and fights to keep a self satisfied grin off her face.

"I already agreed, you know," she knocks his elbow with her own. "You don't have to butter me up."

"I know that," he dismisses the jest and continues to stare straight into her face.

It _means_ something. Small but free-flowing compliments, which she acknowledges by not acknowledging them.

"...and I _will_ teach you. I meant that."

"Oh, you better," she chuckles levity right back into the situation. "There's no backing out of that, now ...I plan to be the next famous bounty hunter."

He scoffs rudely through his modulator.

"I don't know about that..." his tone is lighter now, too.

"We'll see. Between you and Cara, I might have a decent chance..."

He seems entirely unconcerned about her usurping his infamy any time soon. Just moves to his corner of the barn and starts arming down a bit now that he's starting to settle for the evening.

Hanna doesn't have it in her to be upset by this ultimate dismissal.

"About you and Cara ...should I go talk to her? Let her know we talked it out?"

"How do you mean?" the Mandalorian looks over his shoulder quizzically.

"You said you had an argument. Is it ...serious? Is this, like ...I don't know. An actual issue?"

He sighs deeply.

"No. Nothing serious."

"You're sure? I don't want there to be a rift right when we're heading into all of this..."

"There's not," he returns to what he'd been doing. "I promise. Neither of us are petty..."

Hanna remembers the sniping about who'd had the upper-hand on who when the duo first met, and so she isn't so sure. They're planning serious things, however, and she doesn't think he'd be so silly as to minimize if there were actual animosity that might hinder their ability to work together.

"That's good ...as soon as the kid finishes up I'll take him with me to go get myself dinner. We'll leave you time to eat and whatnot," she glances over at the table, where the kid has already gobbled up most of the food sat out for him.

Maybe he'll need some more once they get to the common-building.

"Thank you"

"Mmhmm..."

.

Shortly, she's collected the child and is heading for the door.

"Is it Javi?"

"...who's that?" the Mandalorian quirks his chin like he's running over an inventory list of villagers.

"Your name... "

Hanna's entire strategy is surprise. Hopes that if she continues to ask when he least expects it then the answer might just pop out of his mouth.

"You won't guess it," he tells her dully once more.

"We'll see..."

She pauses in the doorway for a moment and considers letting him know that Omera - _and allegedly others_ \- are curious about his name as well. Hanna does find some kind of sadness in him not having a name of his own, but she also recognizes that's her own cultural blind-spot that she shouldn't project onto him. Mostly she just continues to ask out of amusement at this point; if he were to indicate that it genuinely bothered him she would give it up.

The others here might be much more perturbed by his lack of formal address.

But Hanna thinks she's taken care of it for now. That she's assuaged Omera's worry. She'll keep an eye out for any further nosiness. There's no need to make him think there's an issue until there actually is one.

"...do you have another guess?" he's eyeing her where she lingers.

"Oh ...uh, no," she admits lamely when she can't come up with a quick guess.

"...then is there something else?"

"No. Sorry," she excuses herself before remembering his observation that she tends to apologize unnecessarily. "I mean not sorry ...I was just thinking. It's nothing. Enjoy dinner..."

This is sadly not a smooth exit at all. A thing she refuses to let herself appear flustered over.

She pretends she can't see his shoulders shake in quiet laughter before she slips out the door with the kid.

Sure. Yuck it up.

Maybe she'll go gripe with Cara over dinner, after all.

* * *

**Thanks for joining!  
Take care!**

_**Naria4 -**_ Maybe I'll have to add that to my list of books/shows that's been steadily growing during lockdown! I do recommend Rogue One :)


	12. Nice

**_Hi! Howdy! Hi!  
_****_I hope this update finds you all well and safe!  
_****_AND I hope you're still enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying you all :)  
_**

**_Without further ado, lets go: _**

* * *

**Chapter 12****: Nice**

Hanna had been within earshot of battles before. There had been many skirmishes in the desert encampment that had forced her to hunker down in some corner and hide with the kid. She had of course feared for their safety at those times, but she had never wholeheartedly cared what way the fight would go.

Hiding in the chilled cellar now is worse.

Much worse.

For starters, she cares very much how things are going up at ground level. Who is winning? Who's hurt? Are things going according to plan?

So hearing shouting, blaster fire, and unidentified banging is eerie. Frightening. Hanna knows it must be worse to be up there seeing and experiencing it all first hand, but being at this distance really lets the imagination become an unsettling thing.

On top of this, there are many children to worry about.

They have all been coached thoroughly to stay where they are, but it's a depressing sight to see them here jumping at every sound.

At least Hanna isn't the only adult. There are a few elderly folks tucked away down here, and they let some of the children sit close so they can hug onto them.

Many of the rest try to comfort each other. Huddling against the packed-earth walls and cuddling into each others shoulders. Most are crying, though some of the older kids are sniffling quietly and wiping tears on their sleeves to hide this while they pat the youngers on the back and offer small platitudes.

It's sobering and deplorable.

Hanna offers what comfort she can over the ruckus of the firefight. She's wearing the sling and the kid is secure against her torso, so she's able to hug others and give a reassuring squeeze here and there. The kid's ears are down in worry and his eyes are pinched and fearful, but he chirps softly at the other children now and then, which they seem to somehow find helpful.

.

When the earth quakes around them, they all fall quiet.

Hanna can feel the kid trembling against her where he's ducked into the stomach of the sling.

Dirt shakes from the ceiling and walls to settle on the ground.

Hanna isn't claustrophobic, but for the first time since coming down here she worries about the place caving in. About being buried alive. So when the ground is suddenly rocked again by an explosion, even she gives a small shout and her heart leaps in her chest.

Selfishly, she's glad that the sound is hidden under the shrieks that bounce around the room.

More dirt rattles from it's place but the cellar ultimately stays sturdy.

After this, things slowly begin to still.

.

"It's quiet!" one of the boys shouts as soon as it has been so for a whole thirty seconds.

He springs forward excitedly, but Hanna lurches after him and pulls him back from the door by his shirt.

"No! We need to wait..."

They'd agreed to stay down there until someone came to them. This could be a temporary respite. Or -_and she doesn't want to say it aloud_\- victory may not have come to those they wish.

A nightmare option.

But a distinct possibility no matter how solid their plan. The way Cara has fretted over some of her past experiences with Walkers is evidence of that. She hadn't been going around trying to spread woe, but she's spent enough nights on their barn porch talking-over everything for Hanna to get the picture.

Not the prettiest picture, by the way.

One that does raise Cara in Hanna's esteem for being willing to even try this. The Mandalorian's, too, she's sure. One that had had Hanna silently squeezing the other woman's elbow since the Mandalorian would do no such thing.

But no. Not pretty at all.

Anything could be happening up there. That's all Hanna knows.

But she doesn't say.

"We told them we'd wait," she reminds this boy - _Emil, she's pretty sure_ _\- _gently and ushers him back to the others.

.

It's the kid who truly stirs first. Stretches his neck a bit to peer fully over the sling. Perks his ears straight up.

Hannah, who's been trying desperately to strain her own ears, takes note.

Several moments later, there's nose on the stairs.

_Kriff_.

This could be it.

Hanna twists the sling so the kid shifts to her side and could easily be shoved behind her arm. In the other hand, she frees the Mandalorian's blaster form the thigh holster Cara had made sure to fit her with. The soldier had also taken time to explain how it could be removed and used as a garrote _\- with a thrilling anecdote as evidence of practicality, of course_. However, if things go that far they're all in a whole heap of trouble that Hanna doesn't want to imagine.

She clasps the gun in hand, takes a steadying breath, and edges closer to the door to try to properly hear what's happening on the other side.

Lots of shuffling. Bumbling and scraping as the doors above are jostled and finally slammed open wide.

Multiple feet on the stairs.

Hanna expects what's coming next but still jerks when there's pounding on the door and pulls up her blaster.

"Jada!" a voice shouts.

"Poppa!"

One of the older girls rushes past Hanna as she lets out the breath she'd been holding against her will.

"Jada! It's us!"

Maybe he could have said that before knocking, yeah?

Still, Hanna can't actually gripe as a couple boys hurry forward and help Jada lift the wooden slat barring the door from the inside.

She's too relieved.

.

Though not entirely so.

It is heartwarming to see the door push in and see some of the parents and children reunite.

Many hug their children while simultaneously grabbing at others to reassure them their parents are safe, too. That they coming, that they'll follow in a moment. That they need to wait. It's okay but please just wait here.

Hanna searches but isn't surprised that she doesn't see the Mandalorian. He wouldn't be one of the first to walk away.

Still, it is a little stressful not to see him.

"He's alright," one of the woman looks away from her husband, who's laughing in relief and clutching their boy, and locks eyes with Hanna.

She doesn't have to ask, of course.

Just smiles her thanks.

But she has to see anyway.

.

Choosing to believe these parents wouldn't come down until it was safe, wouldn't literally open doors to danger, Hanna quietly makes her way out. Edges around the now-crowded cellar and slips up the clay stairs.

The smell of smoke had begun to reach the cellar but burns at her nose harshly one she's up in the thick of it.

More than one cabin is in smoldering ruin, though any burning seems to be brought under control already. A benefit of so much water near at hand.

Said embers provide most of the light Hanna searches by. Her eyes flit around for something the light can glint off of while also trying to keep tabs on the uneven ground. She misses the trenches with practices ease and tries to ignore the bodies on the ground for now while she picks her way between the ponds.

.

"Hanna!" she knows the voice that greets her when she nears the perimeter and the men standing sentry at the gapped opening.

Caben. His face is bloody but he's grinning at her so he must not be too bad off.

"You did it, huh?" she smiles back.

"He paid a tooth for it," Cara climbs down from the barricade and pounds him heartily on the back.

That explains some of the blood.

"Nothing I can't live without"

He's very casual about this, and Hanna wonders if he's regurgitating this line. It sounds like something Cara would say. Indeed, the soldier smirks and punches him in the arm.

He sways only slightly.

"Kid's alright?" Cara nods her chin at Hanna, though surely she knows he must be.

"Of course. Where's-"

"Your boy?" Cara jerks her chin again and Hanna turns to find the Mandalorain heading their way along the reinforced fence.

She'd figured from Cara's countenance that he is just fine, but seeing him strolling about tall and secure as ever is nice anyway. He's rubbing his left shoulder, but he's not limping. Or swaying. He's not missing any appendages that she can see.

A grin spreads her face.

"There you are," she moves to meet him.

"Hanna..."

She catches him in a hug, which is unprecedented and only awkward for the brief moment in which Hanna realizes she's never done this before.

By then she's already leaning in.

He doesn't stiff-arm her or duck out of her way. He tenses a bit at the contact, but he allows it.

And, honestly, he's not the coziest to hug. What with his armor and weaponry. She does briefly tuck herself up to an unencumbered space against his shoulder without smacking her face on a pauldron, though, so it's nice enough.

He doesn't relax into the gesture, really. Not that it lasts long, anyway. But he gives the back of her neck a firm squeeze before she pulls away when the kid gives a cramped little squeak.

"...you're wet," she observes when she steps back.

"Had to improvise a bit."

"But you're alright..." she still has him by the elbow and holds on as she tries to visually scour his form in the dark.

"Yes," he dismisses this. "And you are?"

"Of course"

"The kid?" he curls a finger around the sling to pull it open properly.

"Mhmm"

The kid pops out to confirm this, and the Mandalorian sighs.

"Good..."

Satisfied, he pats her hand that is still holding his arm.

He's not brushing her off or calling her a sap, but this does highlight to her that she hasn't let go of him. She peels her fingers open to release his sleeve despite the relief that his solid presence brings her.

"So ...no hug for me?" Cara has sauntered over.

The Mandalorian ignores this completely but Hanna laughs and gives her a one-armed hug when she reaches her side. She's relieved the other woman's in one piece, too, after all. And she takes Cara's smirking and relaxed attitude to mean she's genuinely pleased with the state of things.

"It went as well as it could?" she gives Cara a slap on the back.

A gesture that is likely a mere parody of the strength she'd thrown into batting at Caben.

"Oh yeah. Quiet night," she quips.

"Jeeze," the Mandalorian scoffs and rolls his shoulders stiffly.

It only makes Cara chortle a little longer.

.

"Nadette was directing some of the wounded folks to their mess hall," Cara does somber up in short order. "They don't have great med supplies here, but I've got some training under my belt. I'm going to go see if they need me..."

"I'll help," Hanna offers.

Her first aid knowledge is fairly basic. She's only nursed scrapes and burns of her own, but a mechanic occasionally had some serious hand or arm injuries back at her old post. Injuries she'd helped stabilize and get to a medic. She's not too squeamish about it, has always tried to be practical.

"Let's go," Cara claps her on he shoulder.

The impact is jarring, but Hanna supposes that's a compliment.

She makes to follow but is tugged back by the Mandalorian. She glances up in confusion. For a moment wonders if he's going to tell her not to go.

Also wonders if this is going to be a whole _thing_ now even though he'd indicated he wouldn't be playing dictator.

"Just ...keep the kid close?" he requests. "I'm going to check the perimeter and schedule watches for the night."

He makes no suggestion she ought not to be helping.

_Aces_.

"Yeah - of course!" Hanna smiles. "He's sticking with me even if he's cranky about it ...but I don't think he will be. He didn't like any of this."

The Mandalorian's gaze falls to the kid still blinking up at them silently. He brushes one long ear gently and then gives Hanna's wrist a last squeeze before letting her go .

"Do you think they'll actually come back?" she asks as they catch up to Cara.

"Not likely. Not tonight, at least..."

"They were not expecting what they got," Cara tacks on emphatically, though she leaves off that _she_ wasn't really expecting it either. "Plus they're biggest weapon is gone, so..."

True enough.

The thing is smoldering where it's protruding from the pond of destruction the villagers had created.

"...see you back soon," Hanna sounds a little more hopeful than she likes when she looks to the Mandalorian one more time, but it's been a long night so she forgives herself.

"Go on."

The Mandalorian lingers with the others at the fence as the women move off, but when Hanna glances back he's leading the way out into the woods.

Night vision, she remembers.

Then wonders if there are rules about borrowing a Mandalorian's helmet because she'd like to see that.

But she shelves the idea. Doesn't think it's worth it.

.

.

Considering what they'd run headlong into and how woefully inexperienced they were for it, everyone is extremely lucky.

Broken bones. Some deep bruising. A few serious, but not immediately life threatening, flesh wounds. The patients in the make-shift triage all need to rest up and be _very_ careful, but they should be alright. If also in pain.

"Not sure he'll ever really use that arm right again," Cara shares quietly with Hanna when they eventually trudge out and past one of the more heavily-bandaged men.

"...but you think they'll be alright?" Hanna checks her opinion once they're out of earshot.

She is relatively hesitant to be optimistic.

On the spaceport they'd never been too far from full medical facilities. She knew a technician on a different dock that had severed almost his entire arm in a machining error, and he'd made it with flying colors. Medical attention, meds, and a prosthetic had him back to work like nothing had happened.

Here in the backcountry, they don't have the luxury.

They hadn't in the desert, either. But, there, the Nikto had been happy to put the wounded out of their misery.

"Sure. Barring infection," Cara figures bluntly.

Hanna winces.

"At least they've got a decent little pharmacy stocked..."

And that is her unprofessional medical opinion.

"Yeah," Cara agrees anyway. "And an old medic in the main settlement, too, according to Nadette. They can haul into town if anyone turns South."

"Fingers crossed, then..."

"Well. So far they've proved they're lucky as hell..."

"...you alright?" Hanna can't catch a clear look at Cara in the dark, but she'd sounded awfully wistful.

She's strong, sure.

But haunted, too.

The two aren't mutually exclusive.

"Yeah," the taller woman answers simply.

Hanna nods, though she only half believes. She'll keep on eye on her...

But maybe shouldn't keep a _literal_ eye just now. A thing she proves by tripping and nearly falling onto her face.

Cara manages to snatch her elbow to steady her. They both look down to see Hanna had tangled her feet into the splayed arms of one of the felled Klatoonians.

"Kicking a guy while he's down, huh?" Cara quips without hesitation.

It's a bad joke but it does make Hanna snort. Like a pressure valve venting steam, she feels slightly lighter, now.

Cara is grinning, too.

Humor is always a valid defense mechanism. Hanna understands that. So she's not too worried when Cara excuses herself to go check on the arrangement that is being made for a rotating night watch.

.

.

It's hours before the Mandalorian shows back up at the barn.

"You should be sleeping..." he eyes her in the glow of one of the solar lamps he'd packed from the ship that now sits in the middle of the barn.

"I think that's still a ways off..."

"Mmm," his grunt isn't a disagreement.

He takes a glance into the crib at the now-snoozing kid and then moves back to his corner. He begins to shed his weapons with his usual care, but he's moving more slowly than normal.

And she can't blame the guy, but...

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

His answer is quick. Easy. Reflexively spoken.

Not, Hanna thinks, due to being true. He's just used to giving the response.

Maybe she hasn't known him long in the grand scheme of things, but she's already seen him push through hell. Multiple fire fights. Being shat on by a sand crawler. Facing a mudhorn. Has now faced an AT-ST.

Being alive is a minor miracle of it's own.

But _yes_, he's alright? He's fine?

She doesn't think so.

"I swiped some numbing cream from the stash at the infirmary they've set up," she announces and fetches said tube of medicine off the table. "I didn't think you'd go there to find some yourself."

It's not much, but he can't feel _good_ even if he is up and walking. Right? Unless beskar has some serious shock absorbers.

"You shouldn't have done that," he continues to dress-down.

Hanna rolls her eyes.

Remembers him chasing a sandcrawler. _The hubris_.

"I can always return it if you don't need it," she promises of her thieving.

"I _don't_ need it."

"Ooookay," this could technically be true. "But could you _use_ it?"

Maybe Mandalorians just don't do comfort. Is there some self-flagellation clause no one's talking about?

He sighs long and slow, so maybe she's about to be educated.

"...yes."

.

Hanna had taken the numbing cream for purely altruistic reasons.

She'd been able to tell the Mandalorian was trying to roll some kind of ache out of his shoulders. Had also thought of the quiet way he plowed straight through everything even though he _is_ just a man.

Which he definitely is.

She's seen his hands. They're human hands. He's no machine even if he likes to play the part now and then.

So she'd known that it would help. Even if his pride wouldn't have let him ask for it. Even if she had to hide the medicine amongst his things so that he could use it in private and admit it to no one.

Only now he has admitted it, and she can't help but feel some kind of personal triumph in that.

Which, admittedly, is not altruistic of her.

But, as they say. It's the thought that counts.

.

There is also something triumphant in the fact that he half-strips without pulling his privacy curtain. The jumpsuit that he wears under his armor and kevlar is unfastened so that the arms hang limply around his waist. His cape is set aside.

And it's not like Hanna is trying to be a creep about it, but they are venturing into the unknown here.

She's never known for sure if being so clothed most of the time is a modesty issue or a safety precaution. Frankly, it's never been her business. Wear as much or as little as you want. Let freedom ring. Whatever.

But something feels unmistakably exposed about him being bare-skinned.

With his back to her no less.

.

She's being altruistic again when she offers to give him a hand.

She had tossed him the tube of paste only for him to immediately try to use it on his shoulder blades. Not a simple feat.

And it's nothing, really. It's clinical.

Not to mention it's practical.

He tells her not to bother. That he's fine. He reminds her that she should be sleeping.

But he also doesn't step out of her space when she crosses the barn. Doesn't rip the medicine back away from her when she palms it. Let's her shepherd him into sitting down on one of their short stools.

He's tired.

Just more proof that he's a human.

There are a few globs of ointment that he hadn't gotten rubbed in, so she smooths them into his skin. While doing so she easily notes the area inside his shoulder blade that makes his arm twitch. So that's where she returns once she squeezes more medicine into her hands.

He groans lightly, which makes her fingers freeze for just a second.

But then she grins. That means it's working. The ache is fading. And once that's on it's way out, the tension in his neck has permission to go, too. Which it does. Slowly but surely.

She still thinks she's being altruistic when she's massaging medicine into his other shoulder and up into his lower neck.

Because the Mandalorian's melting into it by then. His shoulders have dropped and he's sagged back some. He's let his head loll back a fraction. She can feel that his breathing's slowed considerably.

She gets caught up in wondering when was the last time someone had touched him like this. Soothed an ache rather than caused one. Helpfully. Carefully.

If her time of knowing him is any indicator, he's a man surrounded by violence.

Touching means someone's inside your guard.

Touching is an attack.

Touching means pain.

.

She gets so wrapped up in thinking about this that it takes her some time to realize her own chest is doing a thing.

That her breathing has slowed, too.

When exactly is the last time _she's_ touched someone?

The kid notwithstanding, of course. But that something else. It's about nurturing. And sometimes there is drool involve. And his green skin is cool and uneven.

This. This feels entirely different.

It's warm. And smooth. And very, very human.

And ...she'd forgotten. Hadn't even realized it until her hands were sliding skin-on-skin with someone else.

So this is still utilitarian. Practical.

But, yeah. Maybe it's not so purely altruistic anymore.

She's definitely taking a sort of comfort here, too.

.

Hanna stills her fingers rather than let herself go on.

She doesn't want to make anything weird. It's just ...nice.

"Are you good?" she asks quietly, hating to break him out of whatever comfortable state he's reached.

He's still a moment. Then inhales deeply and lift his head. Straightens himself back up fluidly. Forces some tension into the muscles that had been so languid. Tests his shoulders in a roll.

"Yes"

Hanna caps the ointment and holds it out to him. If he tries to tell her to return it she's going to hide it under his pillow tomorrow.

But he receives it back with good grace. Reaches for it without turning to face her.

"Thank you"

"You're welcome... ...good night."

Something's shifted, and she feels going to bed is the only thing to do now.

She feels less keyed-up, which is nice. She may actually get some sleep, whereas earlier she'd doubted she'd get any tonight.

"Good night," she sees him nod at the wall.

She retreats to check the kid near the foot of her cot and then gets herself ready for bed.

She pulls her curtain before the Mandalorian does his own.

* * *

**_Ta-da . The end. A bit of a shorter update, but it will get us where we need to go. _**

**_Take care out there! 3_**


	13. Liveliness and lore

_Hey-o thanks for the love! :) It makes my heart go pitter-patter. _

_Hope ya'll are doing well._

* * *

**Chapter 13: Liveliness and Lore**

A couple days pass and things are going relatively well. The village doesn't look like new yet _\- that will take time_ \- but life is edging towards normal.

And Hanna is busy, which she likes very much.

The residents are happy to have her expertise to help them dismantle the AT-ST. Not that she's an expert in machines of war, but the mech is largely destroyed. Some of the guts are worth salvaging before scrapping the raw metal, though.

Which is why Hanna's perched as comfortably as possible in the mess of the interior scavenging through it all.

Cara has popped in to join but isn't a great help with the work. Though she does insist that she could've manned the thing if it was still in working condition. By the sounds of it, she would've been over the moon to commandeer the thing and take it for a joyride rather than bust it all to hell.

Priorities, though.

"So let me ask you something," Cara asks in a business-like tone that suggests everything until this point had been meaningless smalltalk on her part.

It gets Hanna's attention.

"Go ahead," she looks up from a mess of wire.

"Do you know his name?"

There's only one person she could mean. The only person here who you could ask that of and get no answer.

"No"

"I'm not saying you have to tell me what it is!" Cara presses on.

"Well that's good ...because I don't know it," Hanna promises and gets back to work.

"Ugh. He said if I'd been listening close enough I would've caught it by now ..." the other woman sighs.

Well, now. That's quite the claim.

Hanna mulls it over. Let's it roll around in her head.

Then she dismisses it.

"I think he's fucking with you," she glances back up at where Cara's slouched on a half-blasted console.

The woman's dark eyes narrow as she considers this possibility for the first time. When she decides she agrees, she gives a muttered, "shit."

Hanna snorts.

"At least I know it's not just me, I guess..."

"Definitely not"

" And that's not weird to you?" Cara starts twisting and cranking on a bent joystick to try to snap it off.

"It's ...new," Hanna concedes, and then it's Cara's turn to snort. "But I'm used to it."

"Well I think it's annoying as hell."

She has a stubborn look on her face that suggests she might be considering whether it would be worth it to try to beat the answer out of him.

Which. You know. Hanna doesn't condone.

But she would probably watch the attempt.

"You'll get used to it"

"Yeah, I've seen stranger things... ...how long have _you_ known him, anyway?" she gets nosy again once Hanna is elbow-deep under the dash.

"A while."

"Suffering gods...you're _both_ annoying..."

Cara hasn't gone into exacting detail about why she left the service and how she'd made the transition into mercenary work, but besides those details she is actually quite chatty. She talks about battles. Different planets she and her troops had dropped into. Assesses a situation easily and is quick to crack a joke. To try to stir up something interesting.

Her demeanor may be hard, but it's become clear she is used to fellowship and fraternity.

Hanna had lived in fairly closed-quartered dormitories for years with coworkers, some of whom she'd been close to. She understands the atmosphere it can create. Knows where the appeal is in it. So she tries to reciprocate with Cara the best she can. Talks about her experiences on Castilion and some of the shenanigans that inevitably go down in such a busy place. She has a few drinking stories. A couple close-calls with less-than-reputable cliental.

But when it comes to the kid or the Mandalorian and where they've come from and why ...she doesn't share. Some things you just don't want to talk about out loud. Like a jinx.

Cara gets that, she thinks. For she seems more annoyed than offended, and it certainly doesn't seem to effect her affinity for either of them. It's like she's intrigued by a puzzle. Maybe they're all the more interesting for it.

"Hey, _you're_ the one who followed _me_ in here..." Hanna scoffs.

"I did, didn't I?" Cara doesn't sound sorry about it, then confesses: "I need something to do or I'll check on everyone else's watch duty..."

"Not good with delegating, are we?"

"Not when they're all so green - hah!" Cara finally snaps the lever off and pumps her fist happily. "But I don't want to offend them ...they really are stepping up."

"Is that affection I hear, Dune?" Hanna chortles as she pries another panel up to get at more circuitry.

"You know, it might be," she seems to be amused with herself. "And I'm not easily impressed..."

"So I should feel complimented?" the Mandalorian's head pops into the space where a windshield used to be, never mind they hadn't heard him climb onto the machine in the first place.

"Fishing for praise?" Hanna smirks.

He ignores the turnabout and waits on Cara.

"Easy, Tin Can. I never once said that _you_ impress me," the soldier waves the busted lever around emphatically.

He just snorts and steps up a few more feet.

"Everything alright in here?" he looks like he's eyeing the serviceable scraps Hanna is piling into a crate.

"Just peachy. Except that Cara's stealing things..."

"Stealing? No," Cara laughs. "_Conquering_ ...this is a souvenir," she holds up the piece of joystick like a small trophy. "You know how many years I served and we didn't manage to get inside one of these?" she gives the decimated control seat a kick. "Destroyed a couple but never had time to enjoy it ..."

She's pleased and wistful all in one, so Hanna gives her some silence to soak it in.

"...yeah," the Mandalorian pipes up after allowing her a few seconds, as well. "The kid likes buttons and levers, too."

Then Hanna laughs. Enjoys his timing for this levity.

Luckily Cara snorts as well.

"Then he's growing up smart ...despite being surrounded by you fools."

She pockets the joystick and starts scaling the dash to climb out of the window next to the one the Mandalorian had propped himself at.

"Safe to say it's a little cramped in here," she excuses herself and then drops out of sight.

They don't hear a splash so she must make it to the grassy bank rather than drop into the water. Hanna herself had almost slipped and gone for a swim on her way in this morning.

"...do you think she'll impale it on a spike and set it up outside her tent? Like as a warning..." Hanna asks once the Mandalorian has hefted himself in and dropped to stand on what was once the side of the mech.

"Or mount it on the wall," he suggests, then shrugs after Hanna laughs appreciatively. "...she deserves it.

"No doubt ... ...ah, perfect. Thanks!" Hanna abandons what she's doing and stands when he drops a tool belt loaded with a cache of smaller tools suited for electrical work.

Since she's not working on droids, he had agreed that some of his tools from the ship would be useful for her to use. He wasn't hauling back many crates or bringing enough people to necessitate the trolly, so he'd used the one speeder the village had stored. It is actually not-so-speedy but is exponentially faster than the cart and had saved multiple hours for him.

"How's it coming?" he checks while she's fingering through everything he'd chosen to bring with him.

"Pretty well ...kind of slow. A lot of things that might have been useful here are turning out to be beyond repair," she reports her findings. "Not that anyone's complaining. It's just taking some time to check it all..."

"Not surprising, then..."

But it's not like they need a lot of these kinds of parts here. Just the right ones.

"Nope...so where's the kid?"

"He was tired so I left him with Winta," he explained. "Adjusted the strap on the sling so he can sleep with her while she works. She'd helping wave new nets with her mother..."

"Omera," Hanna nods incase he doesn't know the name, though if he left the kid in her vicinity she supposes he likely does.

Then again, he talks as little as needed so she has no proof he finds it necessary to learn names. He may categorize faces to threat levels ...or whatever sorting system he might have.

"Yes," he doesn't sound surprised with her title.

"She's offered to teach me," she shares as she returns to trying to free a circuit board. "...some of their weaving, I mean."

"You're plenty helpful here."

Hanna sends him a grateful smile, for of course he's pinpointed this insecurity in her some time ago.

"I know. Still. It could be useful," Hanna reasons and he only stares.

He responds in a nod and then braces himself to sit onto the slanted floor and start helping with the dismantling of the botched control panels.

.

Hanna had enjoyed Cara's company, but her restlessness had admittedly been distracting. This ...is nice. A quieter presence. She's not stuck here in the cockpit alone _\- it's kind of a morbid place considering what had happened there_ \- but they're still being productive working side-by-side.

She finds herself watching as he successfully frees a mangled circuit board and pulls it close to start inspecting its parts. Plucking at resistors to check the leads and decide if they could possibly be reusable. His hands are lethal things, but they're incredibly careful, now. Dexterous for delicate work as they need to be.

She watches longer than she has a right to.

When she realizes it, she curses herself and focuses back on what's in her hands. Some small wire cutters. Right. She's meant to be _working_.

She wonders if he'd noticed her attention and searches for something to say as a distraction. Anything. But suddenly all topics seem boring and useless.

She seems him shift his position in her peripheral and turns to him again casually.

"Feeling alright today?"

There. A kind and safe topic. Thoughtful, one might say.

"Yes," he gives his usual response.

He has perhaps been moving more deliberately in the last couple days, but he hasn't slowed down. Whether his body's bounced back or he's just that stubborn ...who can say. Hanna suspects a mixture of both.

"...I believe you this time. Mostly."

The Mandalorian scoffs, and since Hanna doesn't have proof of her doubt she doesn't respond.

If he has used the numbing cream again, he's done so on his own time and in his own space. Which is both a blessing and a curse.

Blessing, mostly, she's decided.

Moves on quickly.

"I saw Felix this morning. He and the others who got injuried are doing well, all things considered," he doesn't react to her report, so she suspects he already knows this. "They're planning a celebration."

"I've heard."

Of course he has.

"...will you go?"

Forgive her, but it's a little hard to picture him mingling amongst frivolity.

"Likely."

Hanna grins.

"So ...you're still planning on staying?" she checks. "I've heard you and Cara talking about all the heat this could bring," she gestures unnecessarily around the charred shell they're sitting in.

She will trust his judgement on the safety of this place, of course. It's just that she's getting a little attached. Being in a friendly place again ...it's addicting. Above and beyond that, seeing the kid so happy interacting with other children is bringing her an unprecedented joy. She clearly hadn't fully considered his lack of socialization. Not that he's talking yet, but the stimulation he gets from people closer to his developmental level is wonderful and important and ... ...but if they have to go, they will.

"Yes," he's watching her carefully and she wonders how much of her hopefulness is written on her face. "For now. Word travels fast," he concedes the truth of his and Cara's concerns, "but who knows."

Hanna can't hide her grin.

It's a relief to hear. Even if it's only just for now.

.

.

While work on renovations continues, the party plans carry on, too. The townspeople are abuzz about it. Excited to celebrate after so long living with the looming threat of never knowing when the Klatoonian's might blast in again.

The residents are happy and they're thankful. They've been bringing by gifts to Cara and the Mandalorian. Extra fruit. Tightly knitted blankets. Dried and spiced jerkies left over from some recent hunt. Etcetera.

They have both made awkward attempts to refuse; have reminded the gift givers that they have already been given some credits and lodging as payment.

Any protest has been politely ignored, even laughed at. The last couple gifts - _including a small basket of strange, purple fruit that the kid now absolutely loves _\- had been left sometime in the night so that the Mandalorian stumbled upon it this morning and couldn't know who to try returning it to.

Checkmate, good citizen.

The latest gift of the day he finds when he walks back into the barn in the afternoon. And there will be no returning it immediately because Hanna's wearing it.

She feels a little bashful about being caught but hopes there's no evidence of it on her face.

"Nadette brought it," she gestures to the long dress, "for fixing up the droids. She wanted me to have it for the party tonight and bullied me into trying it on before she left so she'd know if she needed to sew anything..."

"Rude of her"

"Yeah," Hanna chortles since Nadette is perhaps the farthest thing from rude. "I don't think she believed me that I haven't worn one in ...well, years."

"Before Castilion?" the Mandalorian seems to understand.

Dresses simply hadn't been practical at her work.

This one is nothing fancy, but it matches what the women in the village wear. Many of the younger women often wear tunics and leggings since they are so often working, but these long, flowing dresses belted at the waist are all the rage, too. Blues and pale grays pleated together.

"Mmhmm," Hanna smooths over wrinkles in a useless attempt to flatten them. "It feels kind of strange," she surveys herself as much as she can and wishes vainly for a mirror. "What do you think?"

A fraction of her is considering changing straight back into her regular clothes, which were so comfortable to her. Another - albeit smaller - portion of her likes some of the memories this is bringing up.

"...still fishing for those compliments, I see."

Hanna swallows her awkward laugh and throws on a dramatic eye roll to cover up anything that's flustered her about that. He hasn't even moved from where he'd stopped inside the doorway, and he still manages to be a menace.

But the kid shuffles up to her and grabs the hem of her dress to scratch at it and looks up at her. He flaps the fabric up and down a few inches to watch it ripple. Then he chirps at her.

"Well, as long as you like it..."

He chirps at her again and summarily abandons her to run for the door.

As per usual, she follows.

"You," the Mandalorian speaks up before she's able to step outside, drawing her up just short, "...look lovely."

Hanna smiles brightly. May or may not also be blushing for sure now.

No ifs, ands, or buts about that one.

She follows after the trilling child rather than comment on it.

.

Unsurprisingly, the celebration banquet heads into the night.

And, much as Hanna expected, the Mandalorian isn't basking freely in the melee of people. He mostly observes. Weaves in and out of the orbit of the people he knows.

He'd chatted at length with Nadette and Felix. Comes and goes from Cara. Now and then hovers briefly over whichever children are with the kid. Joins Hanna for periods of time, then retreats altogether before reappearing again and making the rounds.

When he finds her next, it's while she's seated on a bench with one of the young girls brushing her hair.

"No, no - you can stay," she promises when the little girl shrinks back at the Mandalorian's approach. "It's alright."

Despite this reassurance, when the Mandalorian seats himself next to Hanna the the girl moves from behind her and sits on her opposite side. For his part, he doesn't act offended.

While some of the adults are showing gratitude with gifts, many of the kids are treating him and Cara like superheros for what they'd done. As if they were watching a holo-vid and found the person to cheer for. But the Mandalorian can't smile charmingly at accolades shouted by the children, and he doesn't go out of his way to endear himself. For instance, he doesn't laugh and flex his muscles when he's asked like Hanna has caught Cara doing once. Maybe twice.

So, many kids still skitter from his presence. And the mask doesn't help, Hanna's decided. It uncannily hides the feature that the children most need to see in order to trust him.

"This is Millie," Hanna introduces him anyway in an attempt to humanize him.

"Hello," he leans forward slightly around Hanna out of simple good manners.

"Hi," the little blonde whispers. "She said I can braid her hair" she lifts her wooden comb so approximately a centimeter of it shows over Hannah's shoulder.

"... ...alright," he doesn't sound sure whether he's supposed to add his blessing to the endeavor.

As if waiting for just this, Millie disappears beside Hanna to get to work again.

Hanna shares a smile with him at these antics.

"Cara was over here a minute ago. Told me I'm not allowed to copy her hair-do.."

"Stars forbid..." he mutters and turns his head to locate her.

Cara's seated amidst a small group of others at a long table that's been pulled outside. Food's being served inside as usual, but benches and chairs and tables have all been move outside around several campfires.

Fires the Mandalorian has made it clear that the other children are to keep the kid away from. If they want to play with the little one they are to play under his and Hanna's rules, a thing he's managed to set in stone since they've arrived. The authority he seems to inherently command is very useful.

"Are you having fun?" she bumps his knee with her own.

He glances down at the contact point and she leans her leg away.

"It's ...not my type of gathering," he admits when he looks back up, "but they deserve to have fun," he adds in fairness.

She wonders what a Mandalorian party might be like. What _is_ his kind of gathering? A small one, she would guess.

"Yeah, they d-ow!" she cringes when her hair pulls hard.

"Sorry!" Millie squeaks on her right.

"It's alright..."

The girl doesn't move. Keeps her hands still in Hanna's hair and blinks up at the Mandalorian to check for reprimand. When he takes no interest in the topic, Millie giggles and hurries back to work.

"You're doing fine," Hanna promises.

.

During this exchange, the kid finds his way over to them and shuffles straight over to the Mandalorian. He climbs brazenly on top of the man's boot and then holds his arms up in classic fashion.

"Weren't you having fun?" he tries to gesture the kid back to his playing.

But the little guy makes grabby hands, and pretty much anyone is done for at that point. Even the Mandalorian isn't immune to him.

The kid titters in pleasure when the Mandalorian relents and scoops him up. Even wiggles his little bottom victoriously once he's settled onto his knee. Leans into the hand on his back. Then he catches the Mandalorian's other hand and promptly begins to gnaw on the finger of his glove.

"Still hungry?" He's only answered by more chewing, but he gently shimmies his finger free. "I know those kids fed you. You don't fool me," he pulls the kid up to eye-level to inform him.

The kid is happy to swing his legs through the air. He chirps some more and reaches out to click his claws lightly on the chin of the Mandalorian's helmet.

Hanna smiles at this display of tranquility in the face of the Mandalorian's traditionally fierce gaze. It fades on her face a bit when the kid's fingers curl under the edge of the helmet, and he pushes his entire little hand out of sight. Her own hands twitch to pull him away, but she lets the Mandalorian tilt his head and gently extend the kid a few more inches away so he'd no longer able to reach. The kid '_eeps'_ in disappointment and stretches both hands stubbornly.

This move is one the Mandalorian does not give-in to, but his voice is calm when he speaks to the kid quietly.

Hanna doesn't understand any of what he says, the language being one she doesn't know. She has heard him do this once or twice but hasn't asked about it yet. It always seems nice, and she doesn't want to interrupt.

She imagines that the kid doesn't understand, either, but he does wait until the Mandalorian is done before he stars smacking his lips in pointed fashion.

"Fine," he sighs and lowers the kid again. "You're hungry..."

"We'll get him more food!" Winta bursts onto the scene, dashing over from the other kids still playing nearby. "More chowder?"

"...sure," the Mandalorian allows and hands over custody after looking to Hanna and not getting shot down by her, either.

"Have you eaten yet?" she checks after the children have moved off en masse for second helpings on dinner.

Possible third-helpings, knowing the kid's appetite.

"Not yet," he turns back to her once the small crowd has moved out of sight into the mess tent. "I'm going to do a perimeter check first. Then I will."

She nods. Business first.

"The chowder they've made is good"

Which is perfectly true. There are, naturally, many krill-based dishes offered here. Somehow they manage to keep it interesting anyway.

"Yes. It smells good," the Mandalorian admits to a bodily craving

It's sort of a novel thing. He's generally shown himself to be more about denial than indulgence.

They're distracted from this by a swell in singing beside a different fire several yards away.

"I like this song," Millie sways where she's sitting and hums along .

"Oh yeah?" Hanna twists a fraction towards her but not enough to pull her hair from the girls's fingers, which have already fumbled a bit making her restart the hair-do.

"Mmhmm..."

"Are you going to sing along for us?"

Millie looks between the two adults. Then shakes her head and ducks her chin to stare at her hands.

"Come on!"

She giggles and shakes her head some more. Her own two braids flop against her shoulders as she does so.

"Oh, fine... "

Hanna looks back across the fires towards the adults who apparently have no such qualms. The singers are being lead by Caben, who's standing with his drink held aloft.

"...I think the adrenaline of everything going on has rubbed off on him a little too much," Hanna watches him shout the lyrics and laugh along.

"It'll wear off," the Mandalorian's watch with less humor than her.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm ...I've met people like him," he maintains his position.

"Well...for now he's definitely chaos energy..."

They watch him chug down whatever is left in his glass of spotchka.

"Aided by drink," the Mandalorian adds, and she's not sure what's in his tone.

Do Mandalorians drink, she wonders?

"Just what he needs," Hanna snorts.

"Are you drinking, too?" he eyes the cup she's cradling in her hands.

"A little," it is, indeed, nearly half-full with the favored local drink. "But it's awfully sweet..."

"Hmmm...find me if you need anything."

"I plan to be responsible. I _have_ drank before," she grins.

They'd gone for whatever cheap lagers they could get their hands on back at the station. Never often, but it was a way to blow off steam.

"Find me if you need anything," he repeats himself.

He's gazing towards Caben again. The song's over and he's sat himself down, but he's not the only one who is obviously several drinks deep. Who knows where the night will go. Cara, for instance, hasn't been afraid to prove she can hold her alcohol. Whoever may have doubted her was probably an idiot. Anyway, she is now daring anyone to challenge her to an arm wrestle.

Perhaps the Mandalorian is keen to go check the watch in order to avoid getting entangled in that.

"I will," she decides and smiles wider. "Thank you."

He nods and leaves.

"He's nice to you," Millie speaks up again as soon as he's gone.

"Oh? Who is he mean to?" Hanna checks, side-eying the girl.

"Raiders," her answer is matter-of-fact.

"And are you a raider?"

Millie giggles wildly at this proposition.

"No!"

"Then he will be nice to you, too," Hanna tickles her knee and enjoys the laughter that ensues.

.

The party grows louder the later it gets, but they don't devolve into downright anarchy. When the crowd does begin to thin, everyone just joins together to congregate around one fire.

That is about the time Hanna bows out. She's getting tired and the kid is slowing down significantly, the drag of his feet getting heavier despite how his eyes stay wide to soak everything in.

Despite his attempts to stay alert, he doesn't squirm or try to protest when she scoops him up to leave.

.

"It's us," she knocks on the barn door before trying the handle.

The lock isn't in place. Still, she pushes the door slowly just in case.

But she finds that all is well. The Mandalorian's sitting on the edge of his cot cleaning one of his pistols. He'd moved their table over near his bed, and pieces of his gun are sitting on it next to his bowl and plate, but he snatches that up when the kid toddles over as soon as Hanna puts him down.

"Did Dune break anyone's arm?" the Mandalorian looks up once he's set the weapon safely out of the way by his pillow.

"No...not yet, at least," Hanna allows for the fact that things could still ratchet up a notch out there. "She's telling some fighting stores, though."

The Mandalorian snorts.

Then he has to ward-off the kid, who'd spotted him moving the gun and deduced that this is a game.

Naturally.

"Stop that," he brushes the kid back from the edge of the bed where he's stretching his arms hopefully. "No," he tries again when he darts forward again and latches his fingers into the blanket to try climbing.

Muttering, he holds the kid by the back of his cloak and carefully pries each finger from the fabric. The kid immediately waves his hands hopefully, and the Mandalorian wisely uses his free hand to grab the gun.

Least the kid's up to powerful mischief.

"Come on," Hanna hurries forward and takes hold of him so the pistol can be put away properly. "You're naughty when you're tired," she accuses.

He chirps innocently.

Lies, of course.

Though, now that she thinks about it, they are lucky this is the first time he has shown interest in getting his hands on a weapon. He's unknowingly been surrounded by them a lot lately, but he never seemed to take any notice.

The Mandalorian has dressed himself down from his typical full armor, so his belt is draped on a nail he'd embedded close to his cot. He slips the gun into it's holster and snaps it securely in place. Double checks this just to be sure.

"That's. Bad," she tries, perhaps in vain, to emphasize to the kid. "It's not for you."

His big eyes blink slowly.

Right.

They're just going to have to cross their fingers on this one.

"I see your friend finished her braid," the Mandalorian observes once he's turned back towards them.

"Yeah...it took her a couple tries. It's more intricate than I thought," Hanna glances at the end of it she can see laying on her shoulder. "I shouldn't be so surprised...you know, with all of the things they weave here."

Mats. Baskets. Nets. Rugs. Roofs. The girls and women often don a braid of some kind as a reflection of this skill. Some of the men, even, if they have the hair for it.

"It reminds me of snake skin..." he doesn't seem aware of the fact that this is not a flattering comparison on it's face, but then he's running his fingers down it's length. "All these layers flowing in the same direction..."

And just like that, the way he says this, it does become flattering.

Hanna smiles.

"OooOooo..."

.

The kid lurches and is suddenly leaning precariously over Hanna's arm, his attention now caught by the scraps of krill left on the table.

"Seriously?" Hanna judges a little bit but really shouldn't be surprised.

He shimmies back and forth as if to insist, yes, he's very serious.

"_Were_ you done eating?" Hanna looks up from the plate to the man beside her. "If we interrupted y-"

"I would've told you."

There's a difference between him cutting her off to override her because he's used to getting his way and doing so to assuage her concern. A difference Hanna can appreciate.

"Alright..."

The Mandalorian starts to shuck the remaining pieces of broiled krill from their thin husks. The kid has proven that he will eat them whole and then spew these shredded pieces back up if given the chance.

"...can I ask you something?"

He says nothing for a moment so Hanna waits.

"Go ahead," he glances up.

"It's going to be personal..."

He just keeps peeling the krill, fingers moving quickly as the kid writhes impatiently in Hanna's hands. He doesn't tell her to piss off.

So she perches on the edge of his cot next to him. Hopes that's not intrusive. Just doesn't want to be too casual about what she's asking.

"What _...would_ happen if we'd interrupted you eating?" she allows the kid to crawl from her grasp and onto the table. "If we came in when your helmet was off..."

They've moved around each other with no trouble on this issue, so far. Hanna hasn't truly questioned it. Doesn't need reasons to respect him. She can't pretend she's not curious about the repercussions, however.

For instance, does he have to kill anyone who sees his face?

In that case she would knock twice.

Possibly even three times.

"I could never put it back on again," he shoves the safe food towards the kid and turns the gaze of said helmet towards her.

Hanna considers this.

"...and what does that mean? Like...aren't you still a Mandalorian? It's more than the armor, isn't it?" she hopes she still sounds attentive rather than invasive.

"It is," he leaves it at that.

"...I'm not _asking_ you to take it off," she feels compelled to add given this clipped answer.

"I know that," he answers just as evenly.

And, yes, he doesn't sound or look upset. If he's not going to be expansive on the topic, that's going to have to be her gauge of whether or not she is welcome to continue.

"Okay, so ...even if other Mandalorian's don't know it happened? It would count?"

She's not going to tattle.

"_I_ would know"

They're silent a moment. Silence save for the little guy's loud chewing.

"...that's some serious self-discipline."

"Yes"

That feels like an incredibly intense answer.

Hanna squirms.

She opens her mouth to comment further and then closes it again in thought.

"You can go on," he prompts after several long seconds during which they watch the kid nibble his food and hum contentedly to himself.

He turns to face her again and she meets his gaze. Engages in a stare-off while deciding whether she does want to continue. She has an explicit invitation to, now, but she doesn't really need to...

"I guess it seems..." she finally sighs, "counter intuitive? Especially as a bounty hunter, wouldn't it be helpful to be more secretive? You know...to hide how dangerous you are?"

If she were a bounty hunter - and she's aware she definitely is not - she thinks that secrecy would make a good ally.

"It's not counter-intuitive because that's not the point. Being covert," he specifies when she tilts her head in confusion. .

She considers this. She stands by the fact that she would rather lie in wait, strike when someone least expects it. That sort of thing.

"Doesn't that just dare people to have a try at you?"

The Mandalorian nods.

"Depends on the person," he confirms.

Right. That makes sense. She's on to something, then. Getting closer to the point, maybe.

"So, for you, does it usually intimidate more people or tempt more people?"

"What would you guess?"

That's not fair, strictly speaking. He'd invited her to ask questions and now he's not answering them straight.

But she thinks over their time together. Seeing as there had been other bounty hunters on their tail, she supposes she hasn't actually seen an accurate sample of the kind of people he usually encounters. So she considers the average people they have met...

"Intimidates?"

"Yes," he ticks his chin down. "But not always."

"...so _that's_ the point?"

"Part of it"

She studies the straight set of his shoulders. His general demeanor. The way he's basically battle walking upright on two feet. The intimidation part, she totally understands. But the other part of her guess must be right, too. She can't imagine who would feel _dared_ to take him on.

A very particular type of person.

A type of person she wouldn't want to know.

"Those who choose to walk the way of the Mandalore ...become both predators and prey," he speaks up again without further prompting.

It sounds like something he's reciting. And. Well. What is she supposed to say to a thing like that?

Something about the thought of him being _prey_ sits very wrong with her. It scares her. Makes her shiver.

They are very different people.

And it's not like she's never known that. It's clear as day, really. But she wonders, for the first time in some time, what he makes of that. She thinks of what she'd said earlier, that she would rather hide in plain sight. Is that a silly notion to him? Weak?

She likes to think not.

Because he trusts her, doesn't he? He doesn't seem like the kind of person who'd put trust in the silly or weak.

"Prey..." she repeats even though she sort of doesn't want to know any more.

"Mmmm," he nods and watches the kid spin his plate on the table lazily. "Mandalorian armor is like a prize to some people... .._.ge'huttun..."_

"What's that?" Hanna doesn't catch. It's sure if she's supposed to.

"Ah ...someone who doesn't deserve respect. Someone ...without honor," he translates.

He's no longer looking at her, she notes. Is looking toward the kid. Or somewhere past him at the floor.

"You've ...met those kinds of people?"

People without honor, sure. They're everywhere. She trusts that he knows she means people who would hunt down Mandalorians.

"I have"

His voice has dropped a decibel or two. He doesn't detail how many times or if they'd been after him or after a friend ...and she's not going to begrudge him keeping such a dark story to himself.

As the silence drags on, she knows she doesn't want to know.

.

"...can I rewind a little?" she requests since she's the one who directed them to this dead-end.

"Please do"

There's gratitude in those words even if he doesn't say it.

Now she just has to push them back to shallower water.

"...what if I stopped breathing right now? Are you allowed to resuscitate me?"

"Hmmm...I wouldn't suggest trying to hold your breath in order to find out."

A ...joke?

Hah. Okay. Nice. It's not exactly an answer ...but it's also not a no. Which is reassuring.

"Can I ask a more serious question about it?"

"So you're not worried your heart will spontaneously stop?"

More jokes.

But, hey, don't jinx it, pal.

Hanna waits, because that answer isn't an answer. It's hedging.

"Go on," he waves a hand.

"What if you were hurt? ...like when I didn't know if you were okay back in the desert; after the sand crawler," his arm twitches in a way that suggests he doesn't need a reminder. "Maybe you'd fallen and broken your neck for all I knew. Am I allowed to check?"

He had _not_ been happy with her when he'd woken to her exploring fingers. She sees why, now, but still ...it doesn't seem fair. There are plenty of head injuries someone could live through, but he'd have to take his helmet off to get treated. Surely he's not just supposed to lay there and ...

"Yes," he answers at length. "But if I thought I wouldn't make it, then I wouldn't let you."

That's ...noble? Or maybe insane. If he had a serious injury, would he be in the correct mindset to make that choice? Then again ...who else had the right to decide but him?

It's confusing and hard to picture.

"But if you're unconscious, I mean," that much is easier to wrap her head around. "Like you were."

"Then yes."

To be honest, that made his anger in the desert seem like a bit of an overreaction. Given the extenuating circumstances ...she gives him a pass.

And yet reserves the right to bring it up at a later date of her choosing.

"Good ...no, I don't mean good! I don't want that to happen," she backpedals, and he snorts softly. "I just mean ...I don't think I would be able to _not_ do something. I think I'd need to at least try..."

"That seems about right," he agrees with her self-assessment.

Which feels like a compliment.

"How long have you been ...living with these rules?" she's not sure that's the right way to ask that.

She should stop while she's ahead, maybe, but she just keeps talking.

"The helmet? I was a tween," he reports dispassionately.

And yet Hanna has a very sure feeling that he knows the time and date he'd put it on. She doesn't dig.

"That's ...a long time not to look someone in the eye," she observes.

His gaze leaves the kid to zero-in on her.

"I look you in the eye all the time"

And she _feels_ that assurance.

She has thought that he does. Suspected it. Yet there's always been the possibility that she is projecting it. That she only assumes it because of her own norms. Because she can't possibly know what his face is doing or where he is focusing, but now ...

Stars.

"Right," she drops her own gaze bashfully. "It's _me_ who can't tell that. I'm sorry; that was rude... "

"It's not"

"But I -"

"How would you have known?" he stops her.

She looks back up. Knows, now, they must be eye-to-eye even through the tinted visor. Which invariably makes his gaze more intense.

"I don't want to push to far..."

A hum like amusement meets these words despite that she'd meant them sincerely.

"Do you know how many people have tried to rip this off my head?" he points needlessly at the mask in question.

No. She doesn't. A lot, if his tone is any indication.

"...I assume it doesn't end well for them."

"Not usually, no," he dips his head in agreement. "If you think you're being rude, you vastly overestimate the manners of half the galaxy."

Hanna grins.

"I just don't want you to think it matters to me. Lke I'm judging or anything. It's just ..."

"New?" the Mandalorian guesses for her and rolls a careless shoulder. "You don't know something until you know it. It was new to me once, too..."

That strikes Hanna as a curious thing to say.

But she decides she's all out of questions for now.

.

"Now that's just lazy," she accuses the kid when he bores of the plate and floats the last piece of krill across the table to himself so he can eat it straight out of the air.

"...has anyone here asked you about that?" the Mandalorian, who's also watching, asks.

The kid, as per usual, doesn't use his abilities all the time, but nor has he kept them confined to the barn. There had never been a formal agreement about it, but neither Hanna nor the Mandalorian has been trying to keep him from using it as he pleases. Which usually means helping him catch frogs. Getting himself food. Bringing toys closer to himself.

He isn't too naughty about it.

No one has gotten hurt.

Nobody has said a thing. At least not to Hanna.

"No. They just seem to be okay with it ..." she shrugs.

Which is great for them.

If also a little curious.

"Hmm... "

They watch for a moment as he licks his lips and then wipes his chin on his robe, which needs to be washed anyway. Then he rubs at his big eyes. It _is_ past his bed time.

"I haven't forgotten what the Client said..."

Hanna freezes at the Mandalorian's words and feels a chill despite the balmy night.

Fretfully, her fingers find a fray in the blanket that's draped neatly over the edge of the bed. The Mandalorian's corner is always tidy, his bed always neat by the time he pulls his curtain. His blanket has a tear, though, and she plucks at it mindlessly.

"He said a lot of things," Hanna doesn't look away from the kid.

The Mandalorian's hand descends on top of hers to move it away from the tiny rip.

"About you," he squeezes her fingers and releases them before returning his forearms to rest casually on his knees. "Being sensitive to the boy.

Neither has Hanna.

Obviously she doesn't want to believe anything he had said, slimy little Imp that he clearly was. Yet she's also found herself wondering at times whether her attachment to the little boy is like he implied. Something more than the general bounds of natural.

"Me either..."

They fall silent again, but it's broken by the kid yawning. He looks between the two adults and makes his grabby hands at no one in particular. Just into the air in general as if he doesn't want to choose a favorite.

Hanna takes advantage of the chance to busy her hands and reaches for him.

"Typical," she pulls him close to cradle into her arm. "Full stomach and ready for sleep..."

He watches her contentedly.

She doesn't move from the edge of the bed to flee the conversation that's still lingering. That seems cheap. Plus, she had asked very personal questions, so this is probably fair turnabout.

She sways the kid gently where she sits to try to determine if the kid is actually ready for sleep or just feeling snuggly.

The latter, it seems, for his eyes stay open and he reaches to play with the tend of Hanna's braid. She stairs dutifully down at him.

She isn't sure what to say. Can't determine whether the Mandalorian is expecting her to confirm or deny with authority. Like this is something she's just supposed to _know_.

Is she?

She should, probably.

The Mandalorian surprises her by shifting closer until their knees bump. His arm is flush to hers. He's close. Almost like he's ready for a secret.

It's next to nothing, maybe, but it's inexplicably comforting even if she can't tell him what he might be hoping to hear.

"...I like to think that I would know if something like that was in me," she finally says one of the only things she has actually decided on this topic.

The Mandalorian sighs.

"Maybe"

He kid blinks upward at them and Hanna stresses her lip between her teeth. She does like to think that she would know.

Does the kid know? Is that how he had found her - of all people? Did he know something about her? Had he been drawn to her? Could that even be?

_Could it?_

"Don't worry," The Mandalorian calls her out of her head and reaches past her arm to wiggle her hair delicately from the kid's grip. "..that could mean anything."

"Maybe," it is Hanna's turn to be non-commital.

It's not a great feeling to not know a thing. But at least she's not alone in that.

The Mandalorian's here. He's close at hand. Close enough to be warm beside her.

That counts for something. Maybe a lot, even.

She leans some of her weight into his arm and he doesn't flinch away.

Which is more than a little reassuring.


	14. A thing with no name

_**thanks again for the feedback, folks! It makes me giddy to know y'all are sticking around and continuing to enjoy :) **_

_**Take care!**_

* * *

**Chapter 14: A thing with no name**

Hanna doesn't exactly _mean_ to be up early today, but apparently the kid has plans. Ones that involve morning hours.

He'd climbed up into her bed like he owned the place and crawled towards her pillow to start mucking around. He'd been fussy enough that there was no ignoring his movements. She is able to stay in bed and occupy him for a while with soft tickles and cuddles. He preens a bit under the attention but soon grows bored. Even fetching her water cup off the floor to let him roll it around only works for a couple minutes since it's empty.

Worth a shot, though.

"Okay, I'm up," she twists to set the kid on the floor and then shoves aside the two blankets she possesses.

It's not a cold day - she hasn't found one of those yet on Sorgan - but she is temporarily chilled without the covers. Especially before she trades her soft linen pants for proper trousers and her camisole for a real shirt.

She feels better by the time she flings her curtain back to face the day.

Before she can even get her shoes on, the kid has located her hairbrush in the small bin under her cot and is presenting it to her.

"...trying to rush me today? You must be hungry..."

He neither confirms or denies, just ducks back under the bed. She can't think of anything dangerous under there so she doesn't mind. She fantasizes that he'll tidy up her things, but she's not going to hold her breath. Hanna has seen messier children but, still, he's -

_Huh_.

.

The Mandalorian's curtain is still pulled fully around his bed, so she hasn't given him much thought. It is true that he usually rises before her, but he can sleep as much as he likes - that's not up to her.

She hears a grunt behind the curtain, now. Followed by rustling. But no Mandalorian is showing face.

"Good morning?" she greets softly.

She hears some scratching by her own feet and the kid's head slips out from under the bed to stare quizzically at her. Hanna offers him a wink, then flits her gaze back to the corner when she hears another grunt.

Some muttering.

More rustling and loud breathing.

For one wild second, she imagines that he's masturbating. Then quickly realizes that's the kind of thing he would be quiet about, and she and the kid aren't making any secrets about being awake.

She ignores the small thrill in her gut that had accompanied the visual.

.

Having heard all of this, too, the kid crawls the rest of the way out from under the bed and stands at her ankles. He coos and tugs at her pant leg. When she looks down, his ears are drooped noticeably.

Yeah.

She doesn't have the best feeling either.

An intense dream, that's what it sounds like. A nightmare, maybe.

Obviously she can't pull the curtain and wake him up, but she could make a racket. The kid would probably join-in to help. He's good at that...

.

"Good morning!" a voice shouts from the front of the barn right before feet pound up onto the porch.

Even Hanna starts, for this is earlier than they typically have a visitor.

Beyond the curtain, the cot creaks and the Mandalorian gives a choking gasp.

"No!" she shouts when his hand curls wildly around the curtain. "Don't! We're out here..."

"Sorry!" the little voice outside screeches.

"It's okay, Winta!" Hanna switches her audience to talk to the girl. "It's only Winta," she says more quietly when the curtain does pull back after a pause.

The Mandalorian appears with his helmet shoved into place. His palm's still flat on top of it, and she can hear his ragged breathing.

"Just ...hold on, okay?"

He doesn't nod.

Doesn't move at all.

Hanna scurries to the door and pushes it open to find a wide-eyed Winta standing there before her.

.

She comes almost every morning to check if the kid is awake and ask if she can take him to breakfast. It's become something of a ritual. She's good about never barging in, for she says her mother has taught her manners. Her mother has also suggested to her that it's always polite to bring a gift when you call on someone, so Winta has started bringing along tea every morning to press into Hannah's hands.

She hesitates to do so this morning, however.

"Good morning Winta," Hanna paints a smile onto her face despite being a little rattled herself.

"Good morning," the girl gives her greeting a second time in a much more mousey fashion.

But she warms to Hanna's smile and hands her the tea in short order. She also reports that everyone is saying it's going to rain later in the day. She wants to know if the kid can come to play first.

"Of course. One second ...uh, stay here..."

Inside, the kid is pawing at the Mandalorian so Hanna is happy to remove him.

"Do you need a minute?" she offers. "I can go get breakfast with them..."

"No"

"I don't mind if you w-"

"No, stay," he's still staring at the opposite wall or the floor; not at her, at any rate. "Please."

And that's the first time she's pulled one of _those_ from him. So yeah. She'll stay.

"Alright..."

Hanna takes the kid outside to Winta, reminds the girl he hasn't had breakfast, and then closes the door behind herself when she retreats back into the barn.

She heads back to the cot to stand nearby a little awkwardly. He's not asking anything of her now, but he'd already requested her presence; she shouldn't feel uncomfortable.

.

Hanna seats herself beside him and moves her tea to her other hand so she can offer him a warm one. If he wants it. Or ...if he'll admit he wants it, rather. But he's sort of admitted a lot already, hasn't he?

So she takes it upon herself to grab his hand. Tells herself she's not going to be sad if he decides to pull away.

Which he does not.

But nor does he speak.

.

They had sat in this spot before and it had been comfortable. More than once. It can be comfortable now, too. So Hanna settles in and sips her tea. Gives him a few slow glances that he doesn't return.

That's alright.

It's curious, maybe. But it's fine.

.

"That song," he says when he finally speaks. "It's new..."

Hanna chortles despite herself.

He has now caught her several times humming to the kid or maybe just herself. She knows because he comments whether he's heard it before. Inquires. And ...maybe that should make her want to cut down. To catch herself in the unconscious, self-soothing habit.

But.

It doesn't.

"Just ...more of the same, kind of," a small tick of her shoulder betrays her only bashfulness. "About someone who's gotten lost and can't find their way home ...crossing rivers, valleys, galaxies. They travel horizon to horizon and they can't forget their lover's name..."

She leaves it there for his contemplation.

"You like songs with ... ...sentimentality," he observes rather than deride the softness.

"I guess so, yeah," Hanna can own that even though she doesn't consider herself an overly sentimental person. "It's what my mom shared most. A way to tell me about my dad, usually. She would wrap him into pretty much anything. She didn't want me to forget him, I guess..."

"... ...and have you? Forgotten him?"

Hanna has to give that some genuine thought. It's not a straightforward answer, but he's not one for simple lies.

"I shouldn't have-" he starts backpedaling before she can decide what to say.

"No It's okay. It was a long time ago. I was just thinking," Hanna knocks her elbow into his to shush him. "It's strange ...because I was old enough to remember his face, but I'm not sure that I do. I mean, I have a picture of him in my mind, but it could just be a combination of other faces I know. Does that make sense?"

"Yes," he doesn't hesitate, which is almost curious.

"Mostly I have an impression of him. Warm. Being happy. Smiling with him," she grins even as she says so. "And my mom told me enough stories about him that some of them feel like memories."

He nods along.

"That's nice"

"It is," Hanna agrees.

She's only had memories of him for so long that it feels normal. Once again, she's glad the Mandalorian doesn't ask further about her mom. More than passing thought of her is still more tender.

.

"What kind of music do _you_ like?" she turns away from herself, now.

The Mandalorian's chin tilts up in what appears to be surprise.

"I don't know any"

Hanna chuckles.

"Everyone knows _some _music"

And he wouldn't be so interested in the topic if he didn't care for music at all, would he?

"Sure. _Bar_ music."

"That's all?" Hanna's squinting in his direction.

"... ...well, history. Some of Mandalore's history is taught in songs," he admits.

_Fascinating_.

"What kind of history?"

"Battles, mostly."

"Huh. Well, maybe I should have expected that..."

Surely there's more to the Mandalorian's than violence, but it _is_ what they're legendary for.

"Yes. You should have"

Hanna snorts.

"...so will you sing one?"

It was only fair to put him on the spot; he'd done the same to her. Not that she's taken him up on it, but it's the principle of the thing, sir.

His un-armored shoulders squirm next to her.

"They're in Mando'a. They don't ...exactly translate..."

"Oh, that's alright. I like the way it sounds..._Mando'a_," she tries to say it the same as he had, only slower, and he squeezes her fingers to tell her she got it right. _Score_. "I've heard you speaking it to the kid."

"Yeah ...I'm not sure he understands it any less than Common."

Very true. The little scamp.

"You're probably right," Hanna contemplates, not for the first time. "He seems to get context and ...I don't know, intention more than words, doesn't he?"

Like when he seems to know if someone's angry or sad. Or when danger might be nearby. Or, quite the opposite, when it's okay to go play because someone is harmless.

"Yes," the Mandalorian's agreement is quick and easy. "So it's an excuse to speak it. I ...miss hearing it," he confesses with a shift of his legs that seems uncomfortable.

Hmm. Hanna hadn't thought of that.

"I'm sorry," she rubs her thumb over the back of his hand where their fingers are still locked together.

For that, he finally looks up properly at her.

"What do you mean?"

"...you know, that you can't be with them. That you're here instead. I mean, _I'm_ glad you're here," she backtracks with a chuckle. "But...I'm sorry that you miss your people."

"That's not ..." he trails off to a pause that's inscrutable to her. "I haven't been with _my people _for long periods of time in many years," he finally explains. "It's not only because of all this."

"Oh ..." that's a little sad but also makes sense given how homy he seems with solitude. "I just thought back on Nevarro..."

But, no. He's shaking his head.

"They are ..._mine_," he concedes. "But there weren't enough of us there. We can't live together out in the open right now without being targets."

Predators and prey.

She certainly hasn't forgotten about _that_.

"So you come and go with your work..."

"Yes. So do others; we provide as much as we can ...and others stay to raise and train the foundlings. To protect the clan..." he speaks surprisingly easily about this.

She knows it must be because he _likes_ it. His home.

"Foundlings?"

"Well, the children of our group. Some of them have been rescued ...adopted, more or less. We call them foundlings."

Hanna smiles. Wonders if this cultural edict had been what propelled him towards their kid in the first place.

"That's ...kind of amazing..."

She has said that more than once about his people, she realizes.

The Mandalorian nods and squeezes her fingers, then looks away again. She's missed something, maybe. Or maybe he'd just shared more than he's comfortable with now.

"...you miss them anyway," she is able to intuit that much, at least.

"Yes. Some individually...but mostly the common mentality," he exhales slowly as he thinks this over. "Camaraderie."

Hanna understands that. Not the brothers-in-arms part, but she hears what he'd off-ed.

_Family_.

But it hadn't seemed as though he'd enjoyed her "sorry" earlier. He'd felt compelled to explain it away. Too close to pity for him, maybe. She won't bother explaining the difference of empathy. It doesn't matter.

.

So they sit a while on it.

Then, before she can over think it, Hanna turns and stretches to kiss the side of his helmet. Right around where his temple might be. Sure she hadn't gotten permission to touch his helmet, but ...they're sitting here, and they're sharing, and his hand's warm on hers and _it feels right_.

Of course, she could just be going mad...

His chin ticks just barely in her direction like he's aborted an attempt to turn and have a look at her.

But she sees it.

Feels like maybe she hasn't gone crazy after all.

She smiles. If the Mandalorian can see that in his peripheral, then ...well, that's okay, too.

.

"Winta said rain is coming," she saves both of them from deciding what the next step should be.

The Mandalorian grunts in response.

Which is an echo of Hanna's thoughts. Rain will be good for the krill, maybe, but the place will get stupid muddy.

"...we should get a tarp over the cockpit..."

Ah. True. She'd gotten the inside of the AT-ST pretty well torn apart, but breaking it down altogether is another process entirely. Needless to say, Hanna's joke about checking to see if there were any Jawas around to do it for them had not been popular with the Mandalorian. So human hands are doing the work, and the job will only be more frustrating if the thing floods full.

"Yeah ...and you're alright?"

"Yes"

"You don't want to talk about..." she's not sure if they've addressed what had actually been eating him. Isn't sure she wants to be the one to use the word _nightmare_ in case he's not a fan.

"No," he does slip his hand away and stand up, so clearly she'd made the right call. "Thank you."

Hanna downs the rest of her room-temperature tea and hauls herself up, too. They can't sit and talk _all_ day. She watches him begin to don his armor before she slips outside.

.

.

While she still has time to herself later in the morning, Hanna wanders towards the lake behind the barn, South of the village center. It is quiet there at this time of day, when most of the residents are working. There are a few kids wading around on the shore, but it's easy to stay far removed from them. In other words, it is ideal.

Ideal for ...sitting.

And staring.

At rocks.

Like a real weirdo.

But the kid can move rocks and krill and plates and whatever he pleases. Hanna has never done so in her life. She's sure of that; it's the kind of thing she would remember. Yet, still ...she wonders.

So she keeps staring.

Even wiggles a couple fingers because the kid does that, too.

.

In the end she just slumps back against the stump she's planted herself at. Nothing had happened. The rocks are just rocks, sitting there the way that rocks are want to do.

.

"What're you doing out here?" Hanna starts but isn't truly spooked since the voice is familiar. Unmistakable.

She whips around to see the Mandalorian's trudging nearer through the sparse shrubbery .

"Nothing much..."

"...and you're doing nothing out here because?"

"It's as good as over there?" Hanna's evasive, but now that he's out here, too, she feels foolish.

"Hmmm...I wouldn't have thought to look for you out here," he looks around toward the lake. Either studying for a threat or to try to find the appeal of being out here in this grey weather at all.

"So why did you?" Hanna shoves herself to her feet now that she's finished and brushes off her butt and thighs.

"Thermal footprints"

"...what?"

He hesitates.

"I just ...I figured you'd be home. When you weren't, I was curious," he taps the side of his helmet. "When I saw you came in this direction, I was more curious..."

His gaze fell to her. The implication being he's _still_ curious.

So he had been ...looking for her? That's not abnormal. Of course he would wonder. She shouldn't feel so satisfied that he'd sought her out.

"...it's stupid..." she feels compelled to answer and quell this feeling.

"That's doubtful..."

"It is, though ... ...I was seeing if I could do _it_. You know," she tries to be comical, waving an arm around a little. "The kid's thing."

She doesn't mention that it's not the first time she's done so in private. He doesn't need to know that. She's been thinking about _it_ a lot since the Mandalorian brought it up again. Part of her doesn't care, but a more restless part of her is intrigued.

"That's not stupid," he cocks his head once he decides. "It's a good idea."

"Well ...it still _feels_ stupid," she insists, which is perfectly true.

"It didn't work then"

Not a question. Smart boy.

"No," her sigh is heavy and undecided. "I'm not even sure I wanted it to..."

She looks away from him at the admittance. She spots the pale flowers that bloom on the shrubbery out here in the shade and brushes slender fingers over the delicate petals. They are small but the clusters are pretty.

"...that first time I learned what he could do, I thought I was going crazy," she admits when she can finally turn a non-embarrassed smile in the Mandalorian's direction.

He snorts, but not at her.

"Trust me. Me, too..."

Hanna chortles, too.

"Yeah ...at least mine wasn't life or death..."

"How'd it happen?" he gives her arm a gentle prod to indicate they should go.

Hanna plucks one of the small flowers before following. On the way back she shares how she'd hidden the kid in her dormitory for a while. Before she'd started to figure out his habits and schedules, he'd get upset when he was hungry. Trying to find food, he'd pulled almost everything she owned off of shelves and onto the floor with one tiny sweep of his hand.

This, the Mandalorian believes.

"Might not be so funny if he rips apart _your_ bed when we run out of that jogan fruit," she swats his arm for laughing at the misfortune.

"That ...wont' happen. I'll find more."

"Oh, and here I thought you said _I_ was the pushover"

He tuts.

"I'm just preemptive"

"Hmm...semantics"

"Words are important"

That seems telling as to why he uses them sparingly.

Still, she smiles. It would be very practical, indeed, to stock-up on their buddy's favorite snack.

.

.

They're back to the barn before the rain really sets in. At that point, the village quiets down and everyone heads inside to get out of the torrent. Well, _most_ people do. The adults. Many of the kids stay outside and enjoy getting soaked and splashing in puddles.

When Winta sloshes over to the barn to ask if the little guy can keep playing, the Mandalorian approves it since it's still humid out so the water is warm.

Because he is the genius who allowed such a fiasco, Hanna insists he be the one to wash the kid after he arrives back to the barn sopping in mud and giggling madly.

She can't help but smile when she hears him continue splashing anew when he's placed into the basin inside.

.

By the time The Mandalorian emerges from the barn, Cara has braved the downpour long enough to come join Hanna under the awning and visit on the porch.

"He's clean and fell asleep," his announcement is tired, if satisfied.

"Good job, daddy," Cara teases.

"...Man_dad_lorian," Hanna strives to say seriously.

Cara tosses her head back to bark a laugh.

The Mandalorian tips his helmet to stare down at her where she's sitting on the edge of the porch. She's rolled her pants up so she can stretch her toes out into the rain as she pleases.

"How long have you been sitting on that one?" he sounds bland.

"...longer than I'd like to admit," Hanna's mildly ashamed with the terrible pun, but she's grinning anyway.

He just shakes his head and drops into the chair no one is using.

.

Despite the disagreeable weather, it turns out to be a nice afternoon while they lounge and chat. Admittedly Cara and Hanna originally do more talking than the Mandalorian. He mostly sits in his chair, legs outstretched, and watches the rain. He's listening, though, for he chimes in now and then. Sometimes reminding them they're gossips while they talk about the town. Otherwise just adds his two credits here and there.

That is until talk turns to planets and other areas traveled. Then conversation is more Cara and Mandalorian heavy. Hanna has been a few places but claims nowhere the breadth of their experiences.

She doesn't mind. She just listens about some of the more exotic lands and sips at the spotchka Cara had brought. It's nice to hear the Mandalorian talk more, and their chatter is interesting. In the background of all this, the splattering of rain on the ponds is mesmerizing.

"Girl," Cara snaps her fingers around a few times. "Are you with us?"

"Hmm...yeah?" Hanna's unclear if she'd been asked a question or not.

"Thought maybe you fell asleep with your eyes open ...I served with a buddy who could do that. It's freaky shit," she's nodding sagely.

"I was just ...watching," she points vaguely at the storm. "Did you say something?"

"Yeah - you want more?" the other woman waves her flagon of drink around.

Hanna glances at her mug.

"Oh...no, I'm good"

"You haven't even finished? Did you live on some dry port or something?" Cara teases but doesn't try to force more drink her way.

"No," Hanna snorts. "Not at all. We had parties now and then, just ...I never went too hard. It was mostly a safe station and all, but I didn't want to get in trouble the next day."

Cara's wince exudes a knowing sympathy.

"Working in the docks cranking tools probably isn't fun coming off a bender..."

"Yeah and our boss wasn't about anything that would slow us down," Hanna spins her mug idly in her fingers. "Ran ships in and out of their like clockwork..."

"So what? It's not like they could fire you, right?" the soldier snorts while she pours more for herself.

Hanna glances her way but doesn't see derision. Carelessness at worst.

"Mm, no, you're right..." Hanna taps her toes into the puddle growing around their deck.

"...so?"

_Well..._

"So they could've sold her," the Mandalorian snaps in Hanna's place, and she twists to find him staring hard at Cara.

"I..." Cara cuts herself off in a groan. "Fuck. Yeah, I'm an ass."

That's her apology.

"It's fine"

And it is.

She hadn't meant anything. They're just chewing the fat. It's been casual. Fun. So Cara had plowed forward without considering that she was being insensitive ...she couldn't totally be blamed. There hadn't been warning.

"Eh..."

Cara still looks indecisive. Is trying to decide what, if anything, needs to be said.

"I mean it ...I know what I was," and Hanna's still proud of her reasons for it, so it's bearable. "But I'm glad I'm here now."

Whatever had happened in between to get her there...well, it's hard to say that it's been worth it. But it's starting to feel that way. Sometimes. Maybe.

"C'mon ...weren't you talking about Gungans, anyway?" she does remember where the conversation was before Cara started offering more alcohol.

Cara snorts.

"Right...Tobli Loo..."

The dichotomy between reflecting on her bonded labor and the stories of the other two's roaming freedom is ...an uncomfortable one.

But she knows which she prefers to dwell on.

Hanna can feel the Mandalorian's eyes on her. With unprecedented difficulty, she turns to meet the gaze and offer a small smile. Then tries to sink into Cara's words. The story is a nice one. Light. Makes Hanna smiles but doesn't take concentration to follow.

It smooths things over well.

.

While Cara's still talking, Hanna feels some sort of interruption. Maybe a pause while her thoughts had been trying to drift.

_Hmm._

She twists before she really knows why and finds the kid standing just inside the doorway. He's awake from his nap, eyes already wide and happy to find his two favorite friends.

And...how had she known it? Had she heard him without realizing? It was certainly possible, though she's not sure.

But she's probably only being paranoid.

She _mus_t have heard him_. _

The kid gives no answers. He just smiles and squeals at her before scurrying straight over, his arms outstretched.

"Hi buddy," she catches him and swoops him high into the air over her head. "Hey..." she can't help but laugh as he shrieks gleefully and titters down at her.

She lowers him back down, but as soon as his feet touch her leg he makes bouncy motions like he's trying to jump right back up into the air. Hanna obliges and swings him upward again so that he screeches with laughter. This time, she can hear the Mandalorian and Cara snickering, too.

It's hard not to when he is so excited.

She tosses him lightly and after catching him swoops him around like a spaceship. He makes some of the appropriate _wee_ and _wooosh_ noises, so Hanna is soon beaming at him

"So ...you're positive that little guy didn't come straight out of your womb?"

Hanna snorts and lowers the kid so she can smirk over her shoulder at the other woman.

"Pretty sure, yeah..."

Said kid bounces around her lap, then when he doesn't get what he wants tries to bound right off of her knees towards the puddle below. Hanna catches him by his legs and then lifts him upside down to glower at him. Or would have done if his tunic hadn't flipped up over his face for him to claw and bat at.

"I'm not so sure," Cara muses while Hanna sits him back down to straighten him out. "Course...that raises a whole lot of questions about what kindda mug he's hiding under that helmet," she jerks a thumb at the Mandalorian.

Hanna blushes and focuses on detangling the squirming limbs in her lap.

"You just love hearing yourself talk, don't you?" the Mandalorian pipes up in a grumble.

Hanna looks side-long while Cara holds up an innocent hand.

"I only call 'em like I see 'em..."

"Right..."

.

Before long a true storm kicks up with thunder and some lightening, and it gets the kid jumpy. This is apparently Sorgan's rainy season so it's not as if they've never ridden out a storm, but he is no fan of it.

Cara bails once they're no longer staying dry under the awning, and they head inside to escape and appease the runt.

"Look...what I said," the Mandalorian starts as soon as the other woman is gone and he opens the door for Hanna and the kiddo. "I shouldn't have ...it wasn't my place."

Hanna looks up from the fussy green mass to show him her uncertainty.

"About...my work?" she checks, then answers the incline of his head. "Well, she already knew..."

"I know; that's why-" but he stops himself from defense and reasoning. "I was out of line."

"It's alright. I'm not...ashamed," she falters because, yeah, at times it does feel like she is.

"You shouldn't be," his hand comes to squeeze her elbow in promise.

Hanna smiles. Eyes their proximity but ultimately dismisses it.

"I know. But sometimes ...it's hard to think about," the fact that the Mandalorian has actually shared a lot recently is the only reason she doesn't worm away from the topic. "It feels like a long time ago now..."

Lightyears from where she is these days, really.

His hand pushes up her arm, his thumb rubbing back and forth slowly. A comforting gesture. All signs point to him being new at these things, but ...Hanna has to admit he's good at it.

She tries not to let her eyes fall to it lest he take it as an indication that he's not welcomed.

Because he is.

"Baevis - our boss - he was a... pretty scary guy, and," - she does glance down when his fingers curl, but they don't drop away - "he did lord ownership over us, like you said. But I was always careful. I avoided a lot of trouble."

"I didn't want to do that ...throw it in your face," he decides what he thinks he's done wrong.

"And I didn't feel like you did. It's ..." she does blush a little, now, "still just hard to admit being intimidated or pushed around to either of you," she glances off in the general direction Cara had disappeared before looking back up at him.

"Don't," his hand has loosened and travels closer to her shoulder. "It's not ...neither of us think that."

And _that's_ a promise to hear.

Whatever recurring, niggling insecurities she's had about what he may think of her all try to glom onto the words.

"Good," she makes herself speak up rather than stand there stupidly. "Like I said, I'm just glad I'm here now..."

"...thanks to this one," he gaze falls down and so does his hand.

Hanna looks at the tiny alien who is now chewing quietly at her sleeve.

"Pretty much ...go get some fruit," she sets him down so he can run off to choose one of the few purple fruits they still have stashed away.

"And Cara, she's..." the Mandalorian mutters while they both start to follow the child inside. "You can ignore her jokes. She doesn't mean anything..."

Feeling that they've settled one conversation, Hanna knows this must be a different one entirely. And Cara had, in fact, made a joke more brash than she usually does.

At least in their combined presence.

Hanna had entered ahead of him and so is still facing away from him while she bites her lip in thought. Wonders if he is outright rejecting what Cara has said or if he's embarrassed.

Furthermore, which option bothers her least?

"I know she likes to tease," she answers when she turns back and can observe him.

He clears his throat but nods as well.

"Yes," he fidgets with his belt. Brushes drops of water needlessly off his vambrace.

Which is ...uncharacteristic. A suggestive tick, perhaps, though unclear.

"But ...she's not crazy, right?" Hanna goes on, as she often has to be the one to communicates a little more. "We ...have a special thing going on here, yeah?"

All of it.

Their funny little barn family.

_Them_. Although she's suddenly not positive what she even means by that.

**.**

"...we do," he confirms after a pause, putting her out of her misery.

Thank the maker.

The kid starts chirping and is holding a round fruit over his head when they both take a look. He has made his selection.

The Mandalorian, who has a least a few knives on him at any time, takes this as his cue to go help and slice up the food. On his way past her, he skims a hand down her spine gently.

Which. Well. Hmm.

Yeah.

She watches him wrestle the food from the kid's too-excited grip and chews on her lip again to hide a do have something good going here. What it is, she can't say. Hasn't wanted to focus on it the last day or two.

But she imagines Cara would be happy to name it.

Hanna would put credits on that.

Kriff.


	15. Some days are like that

_Hi out there, friends! here we are again with Chapter 15. Once upon a time it was shorter and had a cliff-hanger in my head, but I decided I didn't like that. So now it's a long chapter. _

_Enjoy!  
_

_And thank's for the reviews/love so far. I'm glad you're continuing to enjoy :) _

* * *

**Chapter 15: Some days are like that**

Almost a week later, Hanna has new distractions.

Opposite, in fact.

.

The Mandalorian has backed-off quite a bit since Cara's blunt joking. Oh, sure, he's still around, but he's entirely in his own space.

It's pretty poor timing seeing as she'd been enjoying the _**zing**_ of excitement when he put a hand on her. Him brushing by her. A squeeze of her hand. A small, appreciative touch when they passed-off the kid. And any other innocuous thing she shouldn't be bothered to notice.

And now Cara's bungled it up.

Or ...maybe she's not all to blame. Hanna had, perhaps, said too much that night. Asked a question that might've been better to censor. Maybe she'd spoken a jinx into the air by trying to put a finger on everything. On what she is or isn't noticing. On what she's feeling.

.

So he's staying more to himself again, and it's perfectly polite and absolutely annoying.

.

Except for these self-defense lessons.

See, the Mandalorian had not forgotten his promise to teach her some fighting skills. For survival, he has emphasized. To be safe. That's all.

.

"_Anyone coming at you is trying to control you, and you can't let them. Or you take it back. You have to control yourself and your space."_

Telling, no?

Still. Roger that. No running headlong into trouble.

But now Hanna can't help but wonder if this lesson is simply him keeping his word. Or could it be a way to be close to her with clear reasons? Reasons even Cara could accept as utilitarian?

Or ...that could always be Hanna projecting...

.

She grunts when arms wrap around her shoulders and clinch her from behind, effectively reminding her that now is not the right time to be ruminating on _any_ of this.

Because it's time to learn. This is their second "lesson" and, truth be told, the Mandalorian is a quality teacher. Patient. He doesn't huff in annoyance. Doesn't mock. Rather, he insists that with repetition and constant exposure anyone can learn if they're willing to.

And Hanna is willing. Eager, even. Only she's distracted, to say the least.

.

"Where's your out?" the Mandalorian's voice is just next to her ear

"...your armor's unfair," Hanna cringes forward from his too-hard breastplate.

"You're distracted," he gives her a hearty shake.

Well, yes. _Duh_.

"Sorry, I..."

"Don't be sorry. Just do better."

_Rude_.

"That'd kind of harsh..."

He gives her another small shake and tightens his forearm on her chest.

"Where's your out?"

"...to my left," she looks in the direction that doesn't bring her straight to his pauldron.

"Yes. First, avoid the..."

"...choke," she grabs his hands that are fisted together in front of her.

It's much _cooler_ when they get to the point of doing something quickly, but her novice fighter status necessitates a few dry-runs for anything new.

"And then-"

They are both distracted by a sharp gasp.

One that doesn't come from either of them.

.

"Millie!" Hanna eyes find the little girl at the corner of the barn.

She doesn't have to push at the arms around her, for they fall away immediately in the face of the young one's fear.

Her eyes are wide and her jaw is slack.

"It's alright," Hanna promises the girl. "See?"

She turns and gives the Mandalorian a small push. He sways a fraction to indulge her.

"...you said that he's nice!" the girl's eyes are still wide.

"He is, yeah. He's teaching me how to fight..."

"I thought Ms Cara taught everyone already," Millie is very dubious, now looking scandalized rather than scared.

"And so did he," Hanna adds for the sake of fairness. "I just want to learn more."

"...hmmm, so that you can beat up Raiders?"

"Um...yeah," Hanna allows because there's no point in arguing semantics with the child.

"Well ...that is..._nice_," Millie concedes and scuffs her booted feet at the dirt like she knows she's interrupted.

"Did you need something?"

"Ummm..."

"I'm going to go check on whoever is on watch," the Mandalorian excuses himself since it's obvious he's the discomfort.

Hanna nods, though she doesn't believe for a second that he doesn't know who is supposed to be at the gate right now.

"Okay," Hanna watches him grab his rifle where it's propped against the barn and then turns back to Millie to see if she's going to hear what the girl came for.

.

It turns out she is there to report the kid is upset.

.

As soon as Hanna reaches them where they've been playing yard games, she can see what the problem is.

"Sorry," Winta looks distressed, bouncing the squirming, squeaking babe lightly in her lap. "He _was_ playing along..."

"He looks tired," Hanna meets his grabby hands and picks him up. "Don't worry. Maybe he didn't sleep enough...is that it? Nap time?"

The minute sound he makes is distressed but he does grab the fabric of her shirt and pull his face into it, so that seems like agreement enough.

"That's what I thought ...he'll be back sometime after lunch," she promises everyone and then takes a slow, winding walk back to the barn in hopes of him falling asleep.

He doesn't.

That would be to easy.

So she paces the barn with him. Sways back and forth. Sits down. Stands back up. Wishes desperately for a rocking chair. Sways some more.

When the Mandalorian stops back in to ask if she's seen Cara, Hanna presses the kid into his arms so she can take a bathroom break. Ignores his quiet huff about this. He hasn't built up much stamina for the kid's whines that she's started to, but hey. He's part of this barn family, too, yeah?

If she drags her feet a little on her way back to the barn, well ...he'll never be able to prove it. Her arms are _tired._ The kid might not look like much, but carrying him around too long and bouncing is a workout of its own.

Alas, when she enters the barn again the kid's eyes are still open. The Mandalorian is calling him an urchin and explaining to him in very logical terms why he ought to already be napping. The strategy is worth a try since nothing else is working, but it's no surprise the kid reaches for Hanna again.

The Mandalorian then beats tracks at once and returns to his search of Cara which, to Hanna, means he'll be stuck with the next bath.

She makes a mental note of it.

.

The kid does fall asleep, of course. He always does.

Every time Hanna tries to put him in his crib he stirs and squawks, so she just ends up sprawling out on her cot and let's him sleep on her chest. She tells herself it's just for a few minutes. Only until she knows he's properly zonked.

But she falls asleep, too.

.

When she wakes it's in a startled rush because the kid's moving in her grasp. Luckily, she finds that he isn't actually plummeting to his death but is being lifted off of her by the Mandalorian.

"I didn't want to wake you," he explains quietly and makes a slow trek to the crib to try to make a careful deposit.

"S'okay," she swallows back a yawn and sits up to stretch. "It wasn't really the best place for him to sleep..."

"He seemed to like it"

Hanna twitches. It didn't seem like him to try to slip a lascivious comment into conversation, but she can't help the grin or the eyebrow she raises in his direction. The kid's head had been pillowed on her breasts, after all.

He looks back after he lays the kid down like fine glass. Spots her look. Freezes.

"Er ...I only meant -"

"I'm just kidding," she laughs but takes pity before she even hears his explanation.

She feels a little bad for teasing and also isn't too sure she _wants_ to hear a logical excuse.

The Mandalorian tuts but otherwise keeps quiet. Just rocks the cradle smoothly now that she has done the more frustrating work of soothing the baby to sleep. At least she'd gotten a nap out of it. Now she can consider being more productive.

Maybe Felix could use help in their large kitchen...

.

"...these are nice," Hanna takes note of the flowers on the little table in the middle of the room, a few clusters of white bunched in a mug of water.

She eyes the pale purple centers of them and tries to think if they'd been there that morning. She is sure she would have noticed, but maybe she'd been too distracted mentally reviewing their previous self defense lesson.

"Mm. Yes," the Mandalorian agrees over his shoulder, still prodding at the crib.

"Did Winta..." she wonders aloud. "Or..." she rethinks her guess when the Mandalorian's head flicks up before he can stop himself.

Quiet reigns for a couple seconds.

The silence is brief but telling, and it's answer enough.

"I saw you picking some before," he recalls anyway. "I thought you might enjoy them..."

Hanna's eyes widen a little, and she lets them since he's still facing away from her. _Yes_, she had already realized he'd done it. _No_, she hadn't imagined he would admit to the actual thoughtfulness behind it.

"It's pointless..."

"Pointless? No," she realizes she had paused too long. "It's not. It's nice to be able to see them in here ...they're beautiful. Thank you."

They are small and delicate, but lively. The mere bloom she'd plucked before has long since wilted. This is an upgrade.

"They are..."

He rises from his squat by the crib, and Hanna's saved deciding whether she needs to reassure him further by a knock at the door

.

"Mr. Mandalorian?" they hear an unprecedented greeting from the other side.

Hanna glances at the crib to make sure the noise hasn't roused him while the man in question hurries to the door. On the other side they find Millie with her arms folded behind her back looking rather business-like.

"Hello," she greets in cordial fashion. "I want you to teach me to beat people up, too."

The adults share a look. Hanna's grinning a little, but the Mandalorian seems to consider much more seriously when he rounds on her in their doorway.

"How old are you?"

"Eight"

"Eight. Why would you need to beat anyone up?" he's gruff but serious, and he doesn't tell her to buzz-off.

"I dunno. If someone's picks on me"

"Who picks on you?"

Her answer had seemed innocent on it's face, but he's still taking this gravely. He almost sounds suspicious. Due to that, Hanna finds herself almost anxious to hear the answer.

He knows how to ask important questions.

"Sometimes Emil tries to push me in the ponds because I'm small and he says it's funny..." the blonde pouts.

Rude.

But Hanna had feared worse for a moment there.

"Hmm...make a fist," the Mandalorian decides, gesturing a hand at Millie to hurry her along.

He corrects the sloppy fist she makes. Then shakes her skinny arm. Steps back to survey her posture up and down.

"You should kick."

"Kick?"

"Yes. At ankles, shins, and knees," his explanation is succinct but still thorough.

Millie kicks experimentally at the air.

"Try it," the Mandalorian offers his own leg to her and pats his thigh.

"Uh-uh!" she shakes her head wildly.

"Yes"

Millie attempts to appeal to Hanna, who only nods her on. Then the girl scowls in concentration, shoves her tongue between her lips, and kicks just above his boot.

"Not bad. Harder when it's Emil," is his final piece of advice for her. "He sounds like he deserves it..."

Millie laughs and runs off with a "_whoop!"_ of joy.

"...a little kid deserves it, huh?" Hanna's doing her best not to beam all over this interaction she's watched.

"Yes ...if he starts something he should be prepared to deal with the consequences," the Mandalorian folds his arms and watches Millie as she continues to scamper home.

"Hmm...yeah, I guess that's fair," Hanna accepts that reasoning and turns to head back inside.

"I was learning how to fight when I was her age..."

"Really?" Hanna doesn't know what to make of that.

Is it sad? Scary? Or just badass?

Maybe she shouldn't even be surprised.

"Yes ... ...which means _you're_ very behind," he takes her unawares again by rounding off his confession with a joke.

Which is noteworthy, but it does save her from deciding what she thinks of the news yet.

"Gee thanks," she nudges him instead before remembering they haven't been about that recently. "Are you, uh...sticking around here? I was thinking of going to find Felix..."

"I'll stay"

She sends him a grateful smile and heads out feeling that, yes, maybe things are going well, after all. That she's been fretting for nothing. There's still ..._something_.

.

So it's with a light heart that she joins Felix and a couple others baking in their earth ovens. It's a far cry from instant food-prep machines and there's no faulty wiring to blame when something goes wrong, but it's interesting anyway.

And peaceful, with plenty of time for questions and chatter.

Right up until they go inside to prep fresh dough and Cara bursts in through the door.

"Yo!" she bangs her hand on the nearest table and jabs a finger at Hanna. "You better get out here. Your boy's about to go on a rampage."

"What?!"

"Kid's missing"

.

.

.

All of the children are in an tizzy when Hanna chases Cara outside. Winta shouts out to her, but she tracks the soldier's steps instead and they skirt wide around the crew and the adults trying to hush them.

"They were playing Hide-and-Find," Cara's short explanation is more than sufficient.

And it means he could literally be anywhere.

"But he has tiny legs, how far can he go?" Cara tries to reason after Hanna curses.

She just pins the taller woman with a look. They've all seen how quickly he makes a beeline for a thing. Give him a bug to chase and forget about anything else.

"Eh, yeah ...alright."

Leaving him in the care of the other children has never seemed like a problem. Not when they like him so much and he, in turn, is enamored with their energy and their games. It's always made sense.

Until now.

Now Hanna's wondering why children watching children had ever seemed like a good idea.

Why weren't all of these youngsters tethered to their parents' hips?

Why did anyone work?

How did anyone get _anything_ done when there were kids in the vicinity? They needed to be watched.

With two eyes.

At all times.

Part of her knows she's being unreasonable, but that doesn't keep her heart from racing. Or keep her mind from picturing horrible things.

.

"What're they doing?" Hanna frowns when she sees a few people whose names she somehow can't recall hopping into ponds and shouting to each other.

"They're wading through to check the bottoms..."

Hanna's feet stop moving abruptly and she stares at them in horror. Moving slowly back and forth across the ponds, likely dragging their feet incase the kid is...

She's going to be sick.

"No way, cut it out," Cara stops, too, and grabs Hannas' elbow tight.

"What if-"

"He just wandered off," Cara insists, then snaps her fingers right under Hanna's nose. "Let's go."

She propels Hanna into motion forcefully enough that she has no choice. But she's grateful, for as soon as her feet are moving again so is her brain.

"Some of the kids were hiding in the gaps in the barricade fence," Cara goes on. "Mando's looking around there..."

Kids are _stupid_.

So stupid.

And are never to be trusted. That much is clear, now.

.

"Anything?" Cara demands.

But there is no tiny, green creature in sight when they reach the fence so the answer seems clear enough.

"No," Caben's tone is unnaturally grave and Hanna sort of hates him.

"Where is he?"

Hanna doesn't see the Mandalorian Cara had promised.

"Other side of the fence," Caben nods. "The gaps aren't big enough for any of us to shimmy through, but..."

But the fence hadn't been built to keep a space baby contained.

Hanna gets it.

She thinks she might know what the he's up to, so she dashes through the gate, too.

And though she had been looking for him, she's dismayed to find the Manalorian only meters from her. Still, she heads his way. Holds her hands out in a plea she's not sure how to put into words. She knows he doesn't have answers. Clearly doesn't have a fix.

"He's not out here? You did the thing, right?" she taps her own temple. "You can track footprints..."

His helmet can't be malfunctioning now, of all times, can it?

_Can it_?

"I tried," he confirms. "He's not warm-blooded..."

"Damn it..." Cara's joined them.

"...okay, well we have to go look..." Hanna eyes the woods. "Right?"

It's much too vast, but there's no other choice. She knows she can't go back in the village and watch them drag the krill ponds. She'll go crazy.

"Yes"

Cara's answering nod is terse. Then she starts doling out commands. Pairs-off everyone who's with them and starts talking quadrants. Hanna admires the woman, but her calm efficiency is also somehow grating. Without orders, she marches straight out into the woods. She doesn't know how a grid search works; she's just choosing whatever direction feels best.

Any direction.

The Mandalorian falls into step with her, which she's not surprised by. She does wonder a little at the fact that he doesn't try to stop her and fit her into Cara's plans, but she's not going to question it.

.

"I'm sorry," he rasps once they are a few dozen feet into the tree line and away from the others.

"What?" Hanna doesn't stop scanning the leaves and brush.

"You left him with me"

Hanna slows to a stop, and something heated roils around her mind in attempts to become something furious. Now that he has handed her a target, her panic is morphing into anger.

_Blame_.

But the resignation in his tone speaks to her heart more.

Hasn't she been cursing herself, too?

"... ...we've both been leaving him with the children. It's ..."

She wants to start talking about how accidents aren't anyone's fault. Mistakes just happen sometimes. But that feels too defeatist. Too much like an excuse for something bad, like a way to comfort themselves.

And they're not there.

Not yet.

She just leaves it at that. If that points the blame unfairly on the children for now, it's alright. It's a safe. The children are far behind them.

So they tramp on.

Faintly, they can hear the other searchers, too, trudging though underbrush a little too heavily and calling out now and then. But they keep their eyes forward.

.

"Shh," the Mandalorian throws an arm out, nearly clotheslining her into stopping. "There's a heat signature up ahead..."

"But-"

"I know," he cuts her off and makes a couple hands gestures at her.

She feels sure they are official. Knows that Cara would have known just what his plan is. Hanna just nods and resolves to quietly follow in his wake.

If she's far left of center with the translation, he doesn't stop and tell her so.

.

"Fucking-" Hanna slaps both hands over her mouth to shut herself up before the Mandalorian even has to make more sign language at her.

But.

What the fuck.

In the tiniest clearing of trees, their quarry is standing and smiling about two feet from a great, bulky Klatoonian.

_What the kriff._

To the kid's credit, the other creature is not being aggressive. It looks worse for wear, actually. It's slumped against a tree next to a smoldering pile of ash that had once been a campfire. He's missing an entire arm, and his shoulder is sloppily bandaged. The gauze is dirty and bleeding through. He's breathing heavily but otherwise quite still.

Hanna might've thought it was asleep except that its head tilts just slightly at the kid. Like it's curious.

And the damn _kid_ is looking right at it like he's not scared in the slightest. One of his tiny arms is outstretched, and Hanna swears to the stars if he touches the brute, she'll -

"Merlp," the kid turns to face Hanna and the Mandalorian and gives a happy wave.

Double kriff.

The Klatoonian looks up, too.

_Pyew!_

.

The neck and shoulder of the creature more or less erupt when the Mandalorian shoots it, and the kid screeches.

That's easily a sound Hanna could've lived fifty years without ever hearing again.

.

The Mandalorian beats her down the knoll and yanks the kid away even though he's already a mess.

"Is he-?!"

"In one piece," he shoves his arms out towards her, and she sweeps the kid to her chest regardless of the gore covering his little body.

The Mandalorian goes about checking the Klatoonian. More, Hanna thinks, out of habit than necessity.

"Mando!"

The shout comes from the West. Or possibly the North ...she's turned around. She needs to pay more attention.

"Clear!" he shouts back.

Since she isn't expected to say anything, Hanna examines the kid in her arms. The Mandalorian had said he was alright but she'll check on her own.

So there's no doubts.

So that she _knows_ it.

She walks a few more paces from the Klatoonian and holds the kid up for inspection. His ears are down and his face is scrunched up in in a wretched way that breaks her heart. His arms are reaching greedily for her, but he's not crying like he's in actual pain. He's scared.

That's shitty, but it's also fixable.

"Someone is _not_ having a good day..."

Cara has arrived, and she's not talking about the kid. She's nudging the dead Klatoonian with the toe of her boot, a look of revulsion on her face.

"Not sure if this is good or bad news," she goes on.

"Yeah..."

"How's it good?" Hanna would like to know.

"If he's still camping alone after all this time, he must not have friends nearby anymore," the Mandalorian clarifies.

"Which is the way we like it," Cara struts over now to take a gander at the kid. "Guess you're having a hard time, too...giving mommy and daddy aneurysms..."

She tweaks his ear and the kid only blinks, unsure what to make of it.

"Go round everyone up," the Mandalorian gives her a small shove.

"Yeah, yeah ...already sent Ofir back to spread the word around town," Cara updates him and waves over some of the other folks who've flocked to the sound of gunfire and the shouting. "They might throw another party for this..."

Hanna's not quite relieved enough to feel the levity but smiles anyway. Watches as Cara claps her hands once and then take charge again, making sure the search party is accounted for and that everyone's on the same page and headed home.

"Come on..."

The kid looks round to the Mandalorian when he speaks and chirps softly. Blinks doleful eyes up at him when the faceplate tilts downward.

"Yeah ...that was a close one, womprat..."

* * *

"...it's weird, right?" Hanna looks up from toweling off the kid to search for the Mandalorian's thoughts.

The kid had been quiet the entire walk back into the village and then downright startled by the commotion the other children kicked-up when they returned. Luckily the other adults had shepherded them well, sending Hanna and the Mandalorian understanding and encouraging looks as they shushed their own childrem and told them they'd have to wait.

Once he'd been wiped down and placed in a small bath, however, he was practically good as new.

"...maybe."

Right. Well, the Mandalorian had been learning to fight when he was 1/5 of this kid's age. He was a baby-brawler. What did he know?

It is definitely strange.

Not that she _wants_ him to shriek in fear again. She just hadn't expected this.

"And the hungry part fits..."

Sure enough, when Hanna looks down the kid is now chewing on the corner of the towel. Once he has her attention he makes exaggerated "_nom, nom, nom_" noises in her direction.

"I guess he...feels safe now?" she makes her best hypothesis.

"Mmm"

The Mandalorian tosses her a fresh tunic for the kid, who lets her place it upon him before hopping towards the table. His old tunic, as well as Hanna's shirt, are in the Mandalorian's custody. He claims he can get the blood out, and honestly? She's not shocked.

Better her than him, anyway. She can do without the memory of the kid covered in the viscous fluid. _Thank you very much._

.

Still marveling at the elasticity of children, she roots around for something he can eat and then hoists him up onto the table where he'd been waiting with unrivaled patience. _Very_ hungry, then, it seemed.

Not emotionally scarred.

Maybe it's just her who's emotionally scarred.

And yet she also knows it's alright, now. Is already starting to walk back some of the frantic absolutes she'd been writing in her head.

"What should we tell the other kids?" Hanna asks, crumbling up one of the biscuits the kid likes.

It's a good a snack as any.

"What would you like?" the Mandalorian looks up from cleaning his blaster, voice earnest.

"I don't know ...I mean, I know they weren't just purposefully being careless. They couldn't have known he..."

Would see or hear something and wander into danger. Of course they didn't. They're kids. Everything's a game. It's supposed to be that way. But...

"He's alright, Hanna."

She jerks back to attention and gives the man a look.

"Yeah. Yeah, I just don't want to scare them..."

He nods, then admits:

"I might've already done"

He doesn't sounds rueful, really. He'd already told her that his first reaction had been anger. To shout. To demand information.

"It's good they came and told you, though..."

"Yes"

"I guess...we just need to remind them how small he is," it feels scary even to say. "And we should check-in more."

"We can do that"

"Maybe keep him close for a while..."

She is well aware that this seems to be more for her than the kid, but ...fine.

For _them_, maybe. The Mandalorian may be able to hide some of his feelings on the matter, but it's not as though he had been unaffected. The fact that he'd snapped and yelled at the kids at all is proof enough of that.

"Alright"

"Okay ... ...that's good," Hanna chews at her lip.

Glances at the door.

She can't help but wonder if it's enough.

"Their own parents will talk to them," the Mandalorian is still watching.

Because of course he is.

Hanna blushes. Caught in her fretting.

"I know..."

Inscrutable burbling pulls her attention back to the kid, who has eaten the chunks of biscuit and is awaiting more.

"Sorry buddy..." she starts breaking up the rest of it.

.

Once he is content again, Hanna takes a glance back over at the Mandalorian. His head is down as he cleans and slowly reassembles his gun, and she watches without understanding exactly what he's doing. She feels like there's something to say...

It feels wrong to _thank_ him for killing someone, but she's grateful to him. She cant help that. He'd done something important. He'd put an end to their panic and fear. He'd protected the kid in a way she couldn't. Had protected their ...

Well, it's a big deal. That's all.

But she isn't sure how to say so. Or whether he'd want to hear it anyway.

Hanna turns back around before she can be caught and gasps at the sight in front of her. The kid's sitting just where he had been in the middle of the table, but he's now smiling at her with two white petals sticking out from between his teeth.

"No, no..."

His ears droop and he tips his head at her in a very Mandalorian way.

She shoots an uncomfortable and apologetic look to the Mandalorian himself. Needless though it may be, she feels guilty for letting his gift get eaten right under her nose.

"That's not for eating," she turns back to the kid.

She's surprised and more than a little disgusted when he opens his mouth and huffs out a breath of air so that the flower, now half-masticated and slobbery, plops onto the table.

"Ehh..."

"Might as well let him finish it," the Mandalorian rumbles from his place.

"Yeah, I guess," she sighs and gestures for the kid to pick up where he'd left off.

He gives her a high-pitched warble.

Unsure.

"Yes, yes. Go for it."

Hanna drops her chin into her palm and watches him happily pick the flower back up and gobble it down before she can change her mind again. The flowers are too pretty to be snacked, in her opinion, but she's glad he is happy about it. Which makes her happy, too, especially considering how this day could have gone...

Before she can tear up, she looks away from his happy little face.

She glances at the Mandalorian, who's still watching, and shrugs. He huffs through his mask and Hanna thinks - _hopes - _it's a laugh.

She smiles back.

.

They pass the evening nice and subdued in the barn. The kid does make a few attempts to tottle out the door only to be thwarted. Outside feels dangerous and impossibly vast right now. If the Mandalorian thinks Hanna is being ridiculous he doesn't say so, and she promises herself she'll let up on the paranoia tomorrow. For now, she can't stop thinking of the adults who'd gone straight for the ponds to check for him there. Can't stop imagining whether _that's happened before_.

Suffice to say she has a hard time sleeping. Just lays on the sheltered side of her curtain staring up at the ceiling and trying not to be morbid.

.

She is maybe _just_ beginning to doze when the kid start screaming.

For a second she's confused.

She wonders if she'd dreamt it up in a haze.

When she recognizes it's happening in realtime, she scrambles from her blanket and gets tangled in her curtain on her way to the crib. The Mandalorian has already helmeted himself and shot to his feet as if he's practiced the most efficient way to do so.

He probably has.

He shoves Hanna back and beats her to the crib, and he plunges both hands straight inside.

.

The chaos lasts a few more seconds while the kid orients himself and Hanna shuffles towards the door where they always leave one of the lamps at night. The kid quiets even further once it is on, and she watches from there while the Mandalorian checks him over for injuries. It's clear, now, that this was a nightmare, but she appreciates his diligence.

She's edgy, though.

Traditionally, the child is rarely weepy. He fusses when he's tired, as is natural, but is curious and adventurous more than he actually cries. She certainly hasn't heard distress like that in ...well over a month ago, she's sure. She hasn't kept a calendar, but it's been since the Client's safe-house in the labs.

The kid keeps himself tucked close to the Mandalorians chest once the man has satisfied himself of the kiddo's physical wellbeing.

The man is now perched on his cot and patting the kid's back, so Hanna joins and strokes her hand over his little head even though he's doing a good job of trying to hide it under the Mandalorian's arm. He looks up with pinched eyes and coos at her, so she strokes his cheek lightly, too.

"Hi..." it's nice to feel him after the scare. To be close and see how okay he is.

He coos again and extracts one of his hands from the Mandalorian's shirt to grasp her finger instead and clutch that against his chest, too.

"You're alright..."

He nuzzles his face into the man's armpit anyway, taking full advantage of being awake while the man is dressed down.

"...did _your_ heart stop?" she looks up at the Mandalorian and attempts to make light.

"...no. If you're not breathing you're not thinking," he sounds, as he does from time to time, like he's reciting something he'd been told many times. "But I know what you mean."

The tack-on is kind of him whether or not he means it. She thinks of him snatching up the kid and studying him ...and she believes he is being sincere.

"Mmhmm," she watches the kid a while longer. Rubs her thumb over his little fingers. "I guess we should be getting some more sleep..."

That doze she'd reached earlier feels like a pipe dream now, but she knows that all need to try. She starts trying to disentangle herself, but the kid's claws curl in and he keens and wiggles angrily.

"Alright, here..." the Mandalorian tries to hand him off, but the kid keeps his other fist in his shirt and curls his body back into his chest.

"You're okay," Hanna pats his back and tugs her fingers away.

But the kid only cries and reaches for her again.

"Stay," the Mandalorian rasps.

Hanna blinks.

"I-" she considers this impossible thing.

She doesn't much _feel_ like being alone in her cot but also. Also ..._stars_. They have boundaries. They have those curtains for a reason, last she had checked.

"It's alright. There's ...room."

Um. Is there, though? Really?

.

Barely. But, yes, there is.

With the Mandalorian on his back, the kid sprawled on his chest, there _is_ room if Hanna stretches on her side. The kid fusses while they figure this out, assuming, not without reason, that Hanna is going to dart away. He watches close once she easers herself down with them.

"Here..." the Mandalorian adjusts the kid's weight on his middle and then shifts an arm out to curl under Hanna's head so that she can scoot in and have some more room.

Once she's settled there and can offer the kid a finger again, he calms and nestles himself the way he wants to against the Mandalorian.

With her own head rested as it is and her ear pressed against him, Hanna can hear how fast the Mandalorian's heart is beating. She recognizes he must be uncomfortable. He has every right to be, so she expects that she'll be asked to leave as soon as the kid's properly asleep again.

Actually, no. She won't make him ask.

She'll just do it. It's polite. Respectful.

For now, though, this is comforting beyond words. It's for the kid, _fine_, but that doesn't mean she can't benefit from it, too.

.

They quiet save for the kid's occasional huff of frustration before he shifts about or tries to meld closer to the body under him. Hanna helps sooth him, rubbing his arm as much as she can with her finger in his mini hold.

"...are you alright?" the Mandalorian presses a finger into her shoulder to make it clear he's not talking at the kid after they've settled him again.

"Mmhmm...it's just," her sigh is soft because maybe they don't need to get into it.

"Just what?" he pats her arm to prompt her on.

"He... just hasn't cried like that in a while. Not really. Not since they were drawing his blood, you know," Hanna clears her throat. "...that doctor."

The Mandalorian grunts and goes rigid beside her. When she glances up he's staring down at her.

"...what?" she lifts her head a little more. "You've made up for that. More than."

He swivels his head back up to the celling.

"...you don't think so?" that much is obvious.

"I don't think you should be so forgiving," he continues to study the roof.

Hanna tuts.

"...I can't tell if that's condescending."

He says nothing but does bring his gaze back closer. His hand leaves the kid's back and reaches for her wrist. His fingers twist across her skin until his fingers find the mark left there. The skin is still discolored and just slightly raised, serving as evidence of what had happened at the Client's.

She wiggles in his hold until the kid tightens his hand; he sighs at her but doesn't open his eyes from slumber.

"Stop..."

The Mandalorian releases her hand and returns to steadying the kid.

"It was dishonorable, what I did," he tells the ceiling again. "I've had enough time to think about it."

Hanna hums. She had thought they'd simply never have this discussion. A fool's hopeful thinking, maybe.

"...you did the right thing for the wrong reasons when you got us out of that camp and protected us," she tells her side of things. "Then you made a mistake. But you fixed it. Most people never get to that part."

A few beats of silence.

"It's not that simple"

Maybe not.

"It can be. If you let it," she knows that much about hindsight.

They're silent again for a while, and Hanna starts to wonder if he thinks she is completely idiotic.

.

When he sighs she can both hear and feel it. Then he shifts and turns to tap her forehead with the chin of his helmet. Presses it there for a few moments.

Which ...feels pleasant. She's not sure why, only that she has an impression of his intent.

The quiet that follows _this_ is far less strained.

.

The kid's hold on her finger eventually goes limp, but Hanna doesn't get right up the way she'd planned. The Mandalorian is wearing only his jumpsuit, no armor in sight save for his helmet. She can feel how warm he is next to her - _under her. _Can feel the rise and fall of his breathing.

Frankly, he has never seemed more human.

And she's more reticent to pull away than she'd counted on. That fact makes her nervous but ...excited.

"This, um...is nice," she finally states.

Because if he needs her to go, he might have to request it. That isn't the plan she'd made, but it's true all the same.

He can say it.

She won't be mad.

"It is," he agrees instead.

Hanna smiles stupidly and turns into his side to try to make sure he doesn't see. But his words do embolden her just enough to slip her hand away from the kid and let it sit flatly on the Mandalorian's chest.

He doesn't flinch. He doesn't tell her she's overstepping, so ...she must not be.

And that's fascinating.

"So, then ... ...where have you been?" she is more able to ask in the limited light of the barn than she's felt entitled to thus far.

"I've been right here"

Smart ass.

"Well, yeah ... ...and no."

They're quiet again and the only sounds is the kid's deep, steady breathing. She's not sure what that means, whether he doesn't know what to say or just doesn't want to speak. However, she suddenly doesn't doubt there _is_, in fact, something to be said.

Which is ...heartening.

"How new is this?" she speaks again at length, voice soft and aimed to be non-confrontational. "I mean, if you've never... or if you aren't allowed, I can... ...I'm not judging," she insists.

She can what? Cut it out? Back off? Readjust whatever expectations she might be considering?

Easier to say before she'd cuddled-up into his space, but ...yeah. Definitely. She can.

In her many musings about his recent distance, she's already considered that his beliefs might forbid, well ...any of _this_. Or at least frown upon such closeness with someone who is not Mandalorian.

"I have," he sighs like the cover of near darkness is _not_ enough for him. "But never for ...nice reasons."

His words are slower than normal in saying so. He sounds awkward. And Hanna, for her part, is just as awkward hearing it. Confused. She tells herself not to be alarmed but shifts back to look up at him properly anyway.

He flattens a wide hand between her shoulders to hold her to him.

"I mean with unkind people," he clarifies. "We felt nothing for each other. Or ...nothing good."

Implying...that this _is _good? That perhaps he _does_ feel something for her.

.

He leaves so much sitting in what he doesn't say.

.

Once upon a time she wouldn't have cared at all what he felt for her, but she meant what she'd said. It _can_ be simple. She's taking his actions now to speak to who he is, not the old job. She's seen too much of him since then, whether he knows it or not.

So, fine. Maybe he thinks she's naive, but all she can do is believe the truth that she sees.

"I ..." he starts to go on again before she can even decide how to, "don't want to be selfish."

Stars. It's like he's spewed an entire monologue tonight.

"... ...you're not so far."

"Maybe"

Hanna huffs.

"Do I look like I feel that I'm getting ripped-off?" she looks up again from where she's draped against him.

In some ways an argument could be made that she is getting a better deal out of this friendship.

"No."

_Perfect_.

"...do you trust me?"

His thumb rubs back and forth where it still rests between her shoulder blades, so she mirrors that on his sternum.

"You know that I do"

"Then go ahead and trust me."

"Hmmm..."

He's not committing to this statement but he's not lecturing her for being ridiculous, either.

They both have some things to think about, it appears.

And as far as she can tell, she is welcome to do that right there where she is.


	16. At Ease

**Chapter 16: ****At Ease**

"Good morning"

Hanna glances up long enough to smile and return the Mandalorian's greeting before getting back to her incredibly important task with the kid.

A task that includes dirt and a stick.

So, obviously, important is an understatement.

.

"Thanks for taking the kid out a while..."

The Mandalorian had taken-over on watch at an obscene hour of the night, so his lie-in had been well deserved. He doesn't need to thank her.

"Sure. We had breakfast with his friends..."

"Did you decide to bring him back or did he want to?" there's curiosity more than accusation in his tone.

With some new rules in place, the other children are still welcome to invite the kiddo to play with them. They are almost overly-polite about asking now, but at least this shows they care and have taken what happened seriously.

So far so good on that front.

Even so, the kid has been remaining close at hand.

Another recent storm has played some part in this, forcing them inside when lightening forked the sky. Additionally, Hanna is big enough to admit that her own lingering paranoia may have a role. Try as she might, she can't shake it altogether.

However, it's not all external factors.

The kid has been wandering back to either of them more than ever before. Popping up quietly like he's checking-in at a safe base. When he does so Hanna will cuddle him or wrap him into the sling if he looks sleepy. If he finds the Mandalorian first, he generally gets tucked into an elbow and talked at while the man finishes whatever business he'd already been up to.

.

Today, though. No business.

Just drawing in the mud. Nothing fancy, but the kid seems to like it.

"...is that a circuit diagram?" the Mandalorian's now standing over Hanna where she's crouched.

He's recognized the lines and boxes and dots.

"It's educational!" she defends her choice.

He snorts.

Right at her.

Right to her face.

"Okay, whatever. I'm boring," she concedes but continues to finish said diagram.

"I would hardly say you're boring..."

Hanna grins at the ground and bites her bottom lip to hide it.

"I also wouldn't say you're artistic..."

Hanna chuffs at this and thrusts the stick at him.

"Think you can do better?"

Dirt is hardly the medium of fine artistry, after all. How is that her fault?

To her immense surprise, he considers her for barely a moment before plucking the stick from her grasp. He kneels down onto one knee and starts scratching at the earth just to the side of where she'd been working. The kid claps excitedly and ditches Hanna's drawing to scamper closer and watch.

She would be offended except that she's more than a little fascinated, too.

While they watch, he sketches out a narrow animal skull with wide tusks, then sets to work etching some sort of ruins inside of the bones. The kid '_ooohs'_ over this in a way he had not been doing earlier , and Hanna is impressed, too. If confused.

"...what is this?" she waits to ask until she's sure it's nearly completed.

"A mythosaur..." he adds a few more inscrutable marks at the top of the skull. "They were once mastered and ridden my Mandalorians. Now it's more of a symbol. An icon, I suppose... "

The kid gives the drawing an approving sort of pat.

"You never mentioned you were an artist ... ...I might've been a little less sassy..."

The Mandalorian huffs again.

Two sort-of laughs when he's only just woken. She's winning this morning.

"You never asked"

Hmm. Alright. Touche. They've talked about plenty by now, but never art.

"I'll add it to the list"

"...I look forward to it."

Hanna can't think of a retort to that. She's uncertain if he's being cheeky or if he actually has a lot to say on the idea of art. Is that something important to Mandalorian culture? Has he simply traveled enough to see his fair share and taken a liking?

The topic is raising more questions than expected, so she actually does make a note to bring it up again someday.

.

"Cara and Omera found another two Klatoonians last night," he shifts into work gear with ease. "They were in a little better shape than the last one."

Hanna looks needlessly to the kid, who is showing zero interest in their conversation and has no clue what's being alluded to.

"And?"

"...I'm going back to The Crest for surveillance equipment. Cara and I will go check their old camp and set up a couple cameras...just to be sure."

"And are you...optimistic?" Hanna tries to sound it .

"Yes," he nods and Hanna knows he wouldn't give false platitudes. Wouldn't bother. "If they were joining-up there again they wouldn't be wandering. They would know where their friends are. But we can't _not_ take a look..."

"Due diligence"

She gets it. That makes perfect sense. She isn't fond of the idea of him leaving, but it's not as if she's alone here.

"Mmhmm"

"...be careful," it seems strange to bid him to do so, but natural as well.

He nods but doesn't comment on her care. Just watches the kid doodle together a small stick figure.

"...not bad..."

"Implying?" Hanna senses more and raises a brow.

"... ...maybe he can teach you."

She swats at his side but he's unfazed.

Before she can form a clever_ 'fuck-you' _comment_, _Millie clomps onto the scene to join them.

"What are you doing?" she ignores Hanna in favor of the Mandalorian, who reels his head like he's startled to be the one addressed. "And can I join?"

"Ah... ...no."

"But why not?"

The man looks to Hanna, who only blinks at him. It's bad timing to want assistance when he'd just slighted her.

He twists back around.

"It's dangerous"

"But then why are you going?" the girl presses.

"...because I'm more dangerous."

Ominous.

But also factual.

"No you're not," Millie smiles as if this is the most winning statement she could make.

Hanna snorts.

"... ...then because I need you to stay and watch these two," he steers her by the shoulders toward Hanna and the baby. "Kick whoever bothers them."

Millie frowns while she mulls this task over. Then flashes a wide smile.

"Okay! What are you drawing?" she joins right in.

The kid's ears bounce with glee.

"Bye," Hanna waves to the now-forgotten Mandalorian.

He raises his own hand in farewell and makes a silent retreat.

.

Hanna doesn't see him the rest of the day. She tries not to worry on that. He'd had to take the speeder to the Crest, after all, and then hike to the old camp. It's not a brief trip, and if they're going to comb the area of course it's going to take some time.

She finds herself whiling away the afternoon with Omera and Nadette while they watch the children play hide-and-find again. They asked permission first, this time around. Hanna isn't sure if their parents told them to only conduct this game with supervision, now, or if they spooked themselves into seeking allowance.

Whatever the case, she's glad for it.

By evening everyone's fed and they wrangle the kids up around a bonfire for stories.

Some of the children demand tall tales off the Mandalorian, and Hanna fabricates one about him taming and riding a mudhorn. None of them have laid eyes on a mudhorn, so she exaggerates what that is, too. It's unclear if the kid understand her and thinks her lies are funny or if he just gets swept up in the excitement of the other children but even he seems to approve of her make-believe.

His approval, as usual, is a bizarre ego boost.

Omera and Nadette's stories are less grandiose but equally interesting. Folklore, much of which concerns the surrounding forests. The other children have clearly heard them before as they chant along at all the right times or start acting-out the parts they know are coming.

The kid drinks it all in with wide eyes. Hanna can't help wishing the Mandalorian was there, if only to watch the kid enjoy himself so much.

.

.

Alas, he is only a little guy, so he's dozing when there are still more stories to tell. Hanna lets him get droopy and pliant in her arms, and she slips away from the fireside once his breathing starts to deepen.

"Shh, shh, sh..." she hushes and pats his back when the walk disturbs him a bit.

As she nears the barn Hanna can see there is light through the windows. She smiles. As they have yet to experience intruders unto their space, this can only mean the Mandalorian is back.

She knows she needs to announce herself with a knock and does so as soon as she's on the porch.

"It's us," she whispers loudly and tries the handle.

Finds it locked.

_Oops_.

She does hear movement beyond the door and so sways the kid in a gentle fashion while she waits.

When the door does open a moment later she nearly takes a step back in surprise. It's only the Mandalorian, but all of the armor from his torso is missing and the arms of his flight-suit are tied in a loose knot around his waist.

"...did you get hurt?" she blurts, for that is the only time she's seen him similarly dressed.

Or. Not dressed.

She's not staring. She's just ..._noticing_. Because he's there. It's impossible not to notice. Right? Right.

"Ah, no," he appears to realize his state, too, and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to be casual about it. "I was cleaning up when I got back," he half lifts a razor into view.

"Oh ...right," that makes more sense.

Although the truth of the matter is that she's not sure he would have sought her out for assistance if he _were_ hurt, so it had been a fair guess.

"Nadette was telling stories when we got back. I assumed you would be there for a while..." he explains.

Something inside Hanna warms with the knowledge that he'd checked-in even if he hadn't announced it.

"I was until he started falling asleep, but I can hold him and come back later..."

"It's alright," he steps back.

"Okay. I'll be quick..."

She sidles past and is, it seems, _too_ quick. Doesn't ease the kid down with the precise level of gentleness needed to keep him unconscious.

"Shit..." she keeps a hand in the crib to rub his back after he stirs. Peeks his eyes open in a bleary pout.

"It's fine," the Mandalorian repeats.

"Yeah, I ...uh, it feels rude," she confesses.

She feels embarrassed for interrupting him regardless of how unintentional it is. So she's shushing the kid as quick as possible, which is to say not as effectively as possible.

"Well it's not ...and I was almost done."

"Then I can take him outside to get him to sleep while you wrap-up. Or..." a more tantalizing idea presents itself. "I can stay facing the crib ...if that's allowed..."

She trails off in a question and glances up. His answering gaze is inscrutable as ever.

Right up until he nods.

"It is..."

Hanna shuffles around so her back is to his corner, and she can pat and soothe the kid from where she then kneels.

.

The Mandalorian never gives an explicit agreement or discuss rules, but in short order she hears a faint '_tap'_ or metal on wood and then the soft 's_woosh'_ of water. She keeps quiet and strains her ears so she can listen to the gentle scrape of metal on his skin.

His chin, perhaps?

Or maybe his jaw.

...what might that skin look like?

A dusky tan, she knows that much. Beyond that, she has absolutely no reference.

She is full of a strange and nervous energy because it would be _so easy_ to turn around. To do the forbidden. It's a tiny anxiety in her gut, not unlike standing at a great height and wondering what it would be like to jump precisely because you know you can't do it. That you _won't_ do it.

And, yeah, she has no plans to turn around. That doesn't stop her from listening to each short scrape of the blade and imagining a dozen different faces.

.

When he walks through the front door to throw out the water basin, Hanna knows it's safe to move away from the crib where the child is now immobile. She's up off the floor by the time the Mandalorian returns. His jumpsuit is fastened back up, and even his gloves and protective vest had been replaced for the brief trek out back.

She finds herself sorry to see it.

Fully clothed or not, she makes an ordeal of brushing off her leggings and relocating across the barn to perch on the edge of his cot. It's their new habit to wrap-up the evenings there. The kid usually enjoys a late night snack, so it's easy to call the routine convenient since their table lives closer to his bed than her own.

The kid is skipping out, but Hanna doesn't see why they should. Still, her movements are slow and obvious incase the Mandalorian is on a completely different page.

.

But he doesn't tell her to get lost. Instead, he sits down beside her and rests his elbows on his knees in a fatigued way. Obviously things had gone okay in the woods if he'd come straight back here rather than meet with Naddette or Felix, but it's clear he's had a long day.

Maybe they won't be up as late as they have been other nights, but sitting there with her side flush to his... she can't help but hope they are. That's selfish if he's tired, and she knows it.

Also can't help it.

"I resisted temptation to take a peek ...not easy, but you're welcome," she speaks first and slouches forward to mirror his stance, resting her chin on her palm to study his sleek profile.

"Big of you"

Maybe it damn well is.

But she's not _truly_ tempted to blight his own choices, and she reminds him so.

"I know"

Hanna is shocked to find she feels choked up by the certainty in his voice. The ease of his answer. She looks away to swallow just in case it's obvious. He is studying her when she looks back again, so she has to smile to break her own tension even if the smile is shy.

"You _know?"_

"Yes," he still doesn't pause. "You've had plenty of opportunities ...more than most."

Well shit.

"...how long was it before you could sleep easy with me around?" she wonders.

"I rarely sleep easy," he confesses but rolls a shoulder while he thinks. "A while."

"That's vague...a little while or a long while?" she nudges his knee with hers. "I won't be offended."

Well. Maybe a little.

He only shrugs again.

"It took the time it took"

"Fine ...what about other people around here? They don't seem to mind," she nods needlessly at his helmet.

Hanna's gotten the odd question here and there about it even after Omera, but no one seems too agitated. Of course she could've missed any looks or private conversations, but she thinks she'd have noticed if anyone was too edgy.

Maybe once you help save an entire village you get leeway.

"They don't"

"That's good. It's nice that way here, isn't it?" Hanna has long since noticed. "Everyone is ...just accepting. Which is surprising. I would have thought that a place like this would be closed off to anything new. Any_one_ new."

"People are different when they've known less fear," the Mandalorian gives his appraisal of their ilk after a few moments of thought.

Hanna rolls it over and finds herself nodding.

"Naive?"

He doesn't negate that but doesn't agree, either.

"Hopeful," he chooses.

True. There hasn't been so much a shadow of evil here as there has been in other places for so many long years. If you have nothing obvious to offer, you get overlooked.

"I like it here," is her own appraisal. "It's a kind of peaceful I haven't felt in a long time. I mean, I know I wasn't working in a war zone or anything, but ..."

It hadn't been total freedom, either, is what she doesn't want to say. Doesn't want to get into tonight.

"You know what I mean?" she tries anyway.

"Yeah. I do."

Hanna smiles.

"So? Go on...say it. You like it here, too."

To be fair, the fact that he hasn't packed up his ship and left is evidence enough that he likes it here just fine. But she would like to hear him confirm that this is a good place for them.

"Yes...it's quiet," the Mandalorian begins to echo her own feelings. "Not in the empty way that deep space is quiet."

Though she is sure he likes that, too. Because it's not actually quiet here at all.

"It's calm..."

He hums his agreement.

"Of all the backdoor...hole in the wall?" Hanna pauses and screws up her face because that can't be right. "Shit. What did you call this place?"

His shoulders start to shake in a quiet laugh.

"A backwater skug-hole..."

"Yes, that's so much better," she nudges him again, harder. "Of all the backwater skug-holes you could've chosen," she returns to her point. "We got lucky, huh?"

Her ask is soft, almost like a secret. But they're both leaned in toward each other so conspiratorially it seems to fit the mood and still ring sincere.

"Well. I could've done without the Imperial Walker..."

Hanna gives his leg a proper shove in annoyance this time and starts when he catches her impudent hand.

She stares at it a few moments, but then she only chuckles.

Because she knows that he knows. Another planet might not have had a Walker, but it could have had a hunter who recognized him. Wouldn't have had a Cara. Could have had inhospitable locals. Would have been without children who loved the strange little alien baby they tote with them.

"We did, yeah," he agrees, now.

Yes. She can't imagine that any other destination or planet-hopping all these weeks would've landed them in a better place. A lot has happened, but they've also had the chance to catch their breath. Take a good look around.

Still sitting as close as they are, it's easy to knock her forehead lightly into the cheek of his helmet.

"... ...good pick, Captain."

"Mmm..."

They fall quiet a few moments, and it makes Hanna gut clench a little even though she's learned to weather the quiet with him. Relax into it. Enjoy it, even.

She realizes, suddenly, that it's because any end to this conversation might signal an end to the night. He deserves that for putting in plenty of work today, but she doesn't want to turn in. Not yet.

She loves when the kid's with them, but chatting like adults is satisfying, too. Plus she can only imagine that the little guy would've wrestled the Mandalorian's fingers off of her by now to do fierce battle with his glove ...or some other darling nonsense.

"Can I ask you something?" Hanna staves-off the conversation's eventual end.

"Yes"

"...it's personal," she warns because she's fair.

"Go on"

"Are you smiling? Or ...were you just now?"

"What do you think?"

_Gah._ Typical.

"I'm asking," she insists.

No more assuming. She's not interested in that.

He sighs.

"...yes."

That's that. Now she can't help wondering what a smile looks like him.

And the way they're leaned in toward one another doesn't feel merely conspiratorial anymore. Hanna's seen enough holovids and has been to Castilion's cheapest bar enough to know what would be a breath away if this were a more traditional situation.

If he were a more traditional man.

.

In lieu of being able to lean in for a kiss, Hanna presses her forehead to the side of his helmet again.

Oddly enough, it's almost as nerve-wracking as a first kiss. He could still reject it by reeling away. Could lean back to dodge her and let her lose her balance like a real ninny.

Instead, he one-ups her and twists so that his forehead meets hers.

It's foreign but somehow feels nice, too.

.

"Hanna?" a knock on the door makes her jump.

The Mandalorian - _who either has a sixth sense or more likely just a keen ear for others approaching_ \- even gives the door a sharp look like he's incredulous.

"Omera?" Hanna gets up and crosses quickly to the door to crack it open.

"Thank goodness," she finds the other woman raising a hand to her chest. "I didn't see you leave. Neither did Nadette, and in the dark...well."

"Oh! No. The kid just fell asleep, but I didn't want to interrupt..."

"I understand," the woman smiles wide and relieved. "I just needed to check. "

"I'm sorry to scare you," Hanna's sheepish, for they've had enough worry, haven't they?

"No, no, please," ever the host, she holds up both hands to ebb Hanna's guilt. "I'm just glad you're back, warm and sound. I'm turning in, as well."

"Good night, then ...thank you for checking."

"Of course ... ...and you're sure you're alright?" Omera's head cants to the side.

"Yes. Should I not be?"

"You seem ...hmmm, it's nothing," the older woman trails off, though she doesn't sound troubled. "...well, good night."

Hanna watches the woman retreat feeling out of sorts. Now that she knows she must looked flushed or strange in some other way, she is hesitant to turn around and face the room. She even closes the door slowly to buy herself time.

When she does turn, nothing has changed. Not physically, anyway.

And if she's over-thinking, maybe she ought to go to bed...

.

Her feet are undecided when she steps away from the door, but the Mandalorian straightens his posture. His stance reads as expectant, though he remains silent. Which ...she gets. She doesn't want to speak either and ruin the nice conversation they'd had.

Maybe it _is_ a good place to leave things; it had been sort of perfect.

But he's waiting, so her feet make their way over to him. Unreasonable nerves flutter between her gut and her chest while she closes the distance.

"Good night..." she ducks to kiss the top of his head.

She leaves her hands at her sides lest reaching toward his helmet trigger some instinct to stop her.

As a reward, one of her hands is instead filled with his palm when _he_ reaches for _her_. His other hand fits around the back of her knee, fingers curling just so to prompt her forward. It's a bare suggestion that she can easily ignore.

But she doesn't.

Hanna steps forward, her knees brushing past his to stand closer. His head tilts up to watch her do it, and the hand in hers tugs. Once again the movement is light. Careful.

But the invite is there like it's blaring in her ears.

And her heart's hammering just as loud.

She slides her free hand up his shoulder to steady herself. Lightly pinches her fingers into his shirt as her own invite, pausing to leave him time to balk.

Then lowers herself into his lap.

.

He inhales deeply when she does. As if this is some great plunge. Like he's startled despite the warning. Whether he's surprised with her or with himself... it's uncertain.

She can't ask right now.

When she settles against him they both sigh. His hands come to rest on her hips like it's natural, but Hanna's hands flutter in an uncertain way over his chest. It's not that she's scared to touch the firm vest, but that's not the real _him_... it's hard to decide what feels right.

She settles one on his shoulder and smooths the other across his armored chest to find his upper arm and clutches at the muscle there. By then she's still grinning. Also, she is sure, blushing like a child.

"...are you smiling?" she asks again.

"Yes," his answer comes on an exhale, and the minute up-and-down shift of his head suggests he'd taking her in.

Estimating their proximity.

Hanna doesn't think he'll stand and dump her on her ass, but he could still back out. Could be overwhelmed. Might not have thought this through. She wouldn't hold it against him. _Much._ Their previous cuddling could be described as utilitarian if they squinted.

This ...is not.

But his hands flex on her hips. Then drag to her knees and back up her thighs. Slowly. It's calming, which is something she hadn't known she needed. Despite all her worrying about _his_ comfort and her hoping that she wasn't projecting her wants onto him ...she realizes she's quite nervous, too.

It's just that the worry is in the background because she _wants_ very much.

Suddenly she's not sure who is putting who at ease. Isn't sure if she's leading them along to see what he's comfortable with or if he's the one prompting her to move and prove what she's ready for. She also isn't sure that she cares to figure out the answer.

As long as they're here and she can get closer.

She does shift closer. Stares down between them to watch his hands make another path up and down her legs. Then takes hold of one of said hands to pull it away and inspect the glove.

"Can I?" she twists her fingers around it.

He looks at her hand a moment. Then up at her.

"You don't have to...

"No. It's alright," he nods her along.

"I don't want-"

"It's alright," he repeats the promise hoarsely. "You know that. You've seen my hands."

"I know. Still..." she shrugs because he had put them on so it's nice to ask.

"I'd...like to feel you better. And you deserve to be touched without rough leather in between..."

Now _there's_ a damn thing to say.

Hanna pauses in reaching for his other hand to look up into his visor. She hasn't forgotten for a second about his _"never with anyone nice_" comments.

She tears the other glove away and then circles her arms around his shoulders to pull herself closer and plunk her head back down onto his. Maybe she doesn't know how to respond, but just being close is nice.

"I didn't tell you..."

"Hmm?" she prompts him to go on, for she can assume there are thousands of things he knows but hasn't told her. Many of which he probably never will.

"This," he pushes his head forward against hers. "We have a name for it.."

Hanna sits back to both look and listen. It's rare that he goes into his language even when he uses it in front of her.

"What name?"

"_Mirshmure'cya,_" his voice isn't much more than a murmur.

"...and?"

"Well ...the literal translation isn't exactly kind..."

She raises an eyebrow at that.

"But it's...basically the only one we have for kissing."

Hanna's chest feels airy and she beams down at him before she can school her features into their proper place.

"...and, um, that's somehow not kind?"

"It's... technical. But it is affectionate," he can promise.

"Under some layers?"

"Yes. It's cultural."

She grants him a tender smile and presses her forehead into his again to nuzzle there. He sighs out heavily and squeezes her hips in his hands. They are bare, now. And he'd said he wants to touch her properly, hadn't he?

With a gentle hold, she moves one of his hands from her hip to graze up her side. He doesn't need a whole lesson. He's swift to take over, sweeping his hands up her sides. Digging them back down her spine.

Hanna sighs when his touch is firm and presses her closer. Shivers when it grows lighter. Even through her clothes her skin feels acutely alive wherever his touch travels

She keeps her forehead pressed against his. There isn't much more she _can_ do than that, but given the meaning to him it's still exciting in it's own way. Her hands grope over his arms and shoulders. Dance over the exposed skin above his collar, which isn't nearly enough.

.

He snatches her wrist to keep her from exploring his throat. Something reflexive, maybe. Too vulnerable an area? Too close to the lip of his helmet?

"I wasn't-" she blinks.

"I know," he twines his fingers with hers as if to disguise what he'd done.

He lets her sit back on his thigh guards, though his other arm stays slung around her waist to keep her close

"I do know that," he nods again. "I shouldn't have. I'm sor-"

"Don't apologize," it's Hanna's turn to cut him off because apologies are not to this mood and aren't needed. They're figuring it out. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"...I'm extremely comfortable"

Hanna tries to bit her lip to hide the smug smile _that_ brings on, but she's unsuccessful. The huff from under his mask tells her so.

"What?" she dares him.

He's not baited. Only tips his head to meet hers again.

Hanna lets his hand slip from hers. Briefly misses the warmth until she decides she does prefer it massaging along her back instead.

Yes, that's just fine.

She sighs and melts into it.

.

She's more thoughtful with her own hands. Steers clear of the tantalizing skin for now. It's not easy until she explores lower and discovers the flanks of his vest are hardly protective and she can feel at him there, as well. Can trace the obliques she'd seen in sharp contour under the uneven light earlier. He twitches when her fingers snake into the armor. She can't know if it's from feeling exposed or actually being _\- gasp!_ \- ticklish until she does it a second time.

When he huffs again and pulls the hand away to guide it back to his shoulder, she has an answer.

Well well well.

If he doesn't think that's getting filed away for later, he's insane.

"Hmmm..."

He ignores her and returns to his own explorations.

He finds superb sensitive places. Seems to enjoy that fondling her spine can get a sound out of her. His hand finds a home on the low curve of her back, and she's shuddering while he traces the line. She half hopes he'll push a hand under her shirt to ratchet her up a notch. Also kind of wants to hang here in the haze of sensation a bit longer. A lot longer, maybe.

.

Hanna's breathing is deeper than it should be given that, for the most part, they're just getting handsy like teenagers.

But it's also more than _just_ that.

She presses more of her face against his helmet in a covetous manner. If she's fogging up his visor _...oops._ She finds she'd love to tear it off and feel the skin of his face he'd just shaved smooth.

She _won't._

It's an exciting thought anyway.

.

When the hand _not_ driving her mad via her lumbar spine drags up to bury into the hair at the back of her head, she has the wild thought that he had read her mind. That he's squeezing the nape of her neck in warning.

But he's just holding her there to nuzzle his own head to hers.

Hanna smiles and pulls herself closer by his shoulders. She widens her legs to do so and shifts her hips. A thing the fingers on her lower back have practically been _begging_ her to do, by the way.

The move presses her down against his now-obvious erection.

In all honesty, she has no clue why she hadn't planned on finding that. But it's surprise - _not disapproval - _that has her looking down between them as she rolls her hips again. Slight. Experimental.

The Mandalorian grunts and tilts his hips down at the same time he moves both hands to her thighs to push her back.

"I'm -"

"It's okay," she promises.

She still doesn't want apologies.

But she does get the hint.

She pulls back, then climbs out of his lap entirely when he still doesn't say anything.

He leans forward the way he'd been sitting earlier. Stares somewhere around the table.

Hanna wants to say something. Feels compelled to reassure him that she understands it's natural. That he's a man. That it doesn't have to mean anything more than ...well, what it literally is.

But she knows that he knows those things. Talking about it would just be ...well. It's unneeded.

"I'll..."

Back-off some more. Yeah.

"I'm going to go for a quick walk..." he stands up before she's offered anything at all.

"...okay."

He raises a hand, but it only hovers in the air between them for a second and then drops to his side so he can head straight out the door.

.

Hanna stays where she's standing and then smiles. Just to herself. Not for anyone's benefit because there is no one there but the kid, and he's zonked. A giddy, useless feeling leeches in to take over the fading lust, and she chuckles to herself.

She can feel the ghost of his hands on the places he'd touched. She doubts he will need that kind of energy when he gets back, so she heads to her own cot. She sits there but doesn't pull the curtain.

He can have his space, but she can't have him think she's hiding after that. _From_ that.

Because, yeah. She still wants.

They'll need a repeat of that.

.

She's not sure if he'd walked away for his own benefit or for hers. She hadn't needed it, but maybe he doesn't know that. It's not as though they'd been using a ton of words. And if _he_ needed it ...then she is glad he's taken it.

She certainly doesn't want to remind him of someone he doesn't like, if that's the case.

Hanna hates herself a little for the swift flare of jealousy in her gut when she thinks of that. Or the way nameless and glaring - _but still beautiful _\- faces flash in her mind's eye.

_'I don't want to be selfish_'

Stars. He definitely isn't.

But she doesn't want to be either. He can have whatever he wants. Space. A walk. A curtain. Six curtains, if he likes.

.

When he returns Hanna looks up and offers a smile. Non-lecherous. Simply one that shows she is pleased to see him. He waffles inside the doorway as if she _is_ leering but then crosses to her bed rather than make a swift return to his own.

"Alright?"

"Yes," he nods once. "And you?"

"Great," she folds a knee up and hugs her arms around it to give her hands something to do other than reach for him once he's level to her.

He nods again.

She tilts her face up at him. Not expectantly. Just ...she's happy. She chews on her lip at this acknowledgment rather than smile again like a dope. One of his un-gloved fingers pushes at her lip to free it from her teeth, and then she _does_ smile and roll her eyes.

"Good night," he slips the same hand around to the back of her neck and ducks to tap his head to hers.

_Stars almighty_.

It's not soft of him, she thinks. Just purposeful. Like everything else.

"...night."

.

She watches him retreat to his bed and start removing his remaining armor. As soon as she realizes that might be indecent of her, she pulls her curtain and changes her own clothes so she can hurry to curl under her blankets.

Hanna turns to the wall lest she be tempted to peek across the room and see what he's doing. Clutches the covers to her chest and reviews everything that's just transpired.

She's pleased with herself to find there's no panic or regret.

She feels warm and comfortable.

Her breathing is slow.

Content.


	17. Invitation only

**_**Ahoy, there be some smut ahead**_**

_*If that's not your bag, it's not particularly explicit (though I guess that's subjective) but you can totally skip/browse over it and you're not missing anything imperative to the plot. Just some feels and some sexiness :)_

_**...**_

_**...**_

**Chapter 17: ****Invitation only**

Hanna wakes to voices. She thinks she must've been sleeping quite hard because she can't make heads or tails of the talking.

It's a pretty odd sensation.

She's only able to orient herself after she yanks the curtain open and realizes the noise is coming from behind the Mandalorian's tussled curtain.

_Mando_'_a_, then.

That makes sense.

As do the kid's answering coos and squeaks.

Now better informed, she rolls onto her back and stretches. Blinks in a bleary way at the ceiling. If the Mandalorian is still in bed, it can't be _too _late in the morning. And if he's got the kiddo, she should try to go back to sleep_._

It's a cozy idea.

But then her eyes land on the petals peeking from over the ledge of the windowsill above her. Flowers had shown up there, tucked where the kid couldn't reach, two days ago.

Briefly, she had worried that they were some kind of peace offering after their _foray_ into feeling each other up. The world's most unnecessary apology, maybe.

_That_ hadn't been a great feeling.

So she'd addressed it rather than fret. When he met her "thank you" with a soft pat on her elbow and a nudge of his forehead to hers ...she felt better.

.

Hanna grins at thin air.

For a gesture that had meant nothing to her last week, this head-tapping business is slowly becoming habitual. It's not entirely natural to her yet, but it helps that to do it they have to be within arm's reach of each other. It's a gesture that naturally invites more touch. Brushing their hands together. Grazing her hand over his exposed flank. Smoothing a wide palm over her waist. Or her back.

She hasn't found herself in his lap again, but the rest of this feels intimate anyway.

So to hell with going back to sleep.

.

Hanna rolls off of her cot and pads over to the boys because she can tell from the Mandalorian's voice that his helmet is on.

"Good morning," he greets and pulls the curtain just before she reaches it.

Because he's a show off.

"Am I interrupting?" she gazes down at the pair.

The Mandalorian has one hand tucked up under his head. The other one is resting on the kid's leg where he is sitting on the man's abdomen.

"No"

That's welcoming, so she perches on the edge of his bed.

The kid promptly escapes the steadying hold and barrel-rolls across the the Mandalorian's stomach toward her. He gurgles an impish laugh when she catches him and lifts him back into his place. His smile is wide, so she can't help but lean in and kiss the top of his fuzzy head. He giggles when her loose hair tickles over his face, and he swats at it playfully.

"Hey!" he catches a chunk and tries to keep it, so the Mandalorian has to help free her.

The little one seems to think it's a game so it takes a few moments, after which he gets a stern Mandalorian finger pointed in his face ... ...but he just scratches at the trim nail with the tip of his own claw.

"He really respects you..." Hanna teases once she's straightened up and is pushing her hair back into place.

As she does so she realizes her hair's still something of a mss from sleeping, and she starts brushing her fingers through it for a quick fix. Unlike some people, she can't hide her bed-head in a helmet.

"He'll learn ..."

"We'll see..." she doesn't want to doubt him straight to his face, but he _is_ more of a pushover for the kid than he likes to acknowledge.

Case in point, he only chuckles at her retort.

.

"Here..." he untucks his arm from behind his head with a little grunt and scoots aside towards the wall.

"Thanks," she twists and stretches herself beside him without bothering to hide her smile.

The kid watches this curiously while plucking in an absent way at the Mandalorian's shirt.

"So what were you two talking about before I interrupted?" she checks once she's draped against him.

"I told you that you didn't interrupt," he ignores her self-deprecation. "I was telling him a story..."

His warmth feels different to her now that she has more familiarity with it. She nuzzles into his shoulder waiting to see if he'll go on before prompting, "yeah?"

"Mmm. You asked about Mandalorian songs once..."

"You were sining to him?" Hanna lifts her head a bit to show both her smile and her wide eyes.

The Mandalorian makes a noncommittal noise.

"It's more of a poem to tell than a song to sing..." he starts to hedge.

"Mmhmm, and were you finished?" Hanna tickles the kid's toes and then smooths her hand gently over the Mandalorian's abdomen to curl around his side.

"No..."

He's quiet a while. Simply drums his fingers on the kid's leg. Taps his other fingers on her shoulder.

Then he starts.

.

A few lines in, she realizes he is tapping against her shoulder to the cadence of his words. Words that she doesn't know and likely never will. The kid can't possibly know them, either, but even he is quiet and is blinking at the Mandalorian like he understands everything that's happening.

And yeah, it's not really singing. It also isn't what she would call beautiful the way it's growled through his vocoder, but it is mesmerizing.

.

It doesn't last long, but it's enough

"Thank you," Hanna's chest feels somehow tight when he finishes and goes quiet once more.

"Mmm," the hand on her shoulder drags through her hair, then his finger trails between her shoulder blades.

The area is bare since she's still wearing the undershirt she'd slept in, so she shudders out a shiver. As if to act like this were voluntary, she shifts and slides her leg over his where they lay.

"...what was it about? Can you say?" she wonders.

"I can..."

He pauses a while longer anyway, but she stays quiet and waits him out. If he didn't want to tell her, he could have lied and said it was a secret.

Hanna watches the kid, who is tilting his head this way and that at the Mandalorian in an almost sage way. Does he feel the man's mood? Could he _possibly_ understand the words? Is he confused by this moment and their proximity together? ...or is she giving him way too much credit?

But then he catches Hanna's eye and smiles, and he tips himself forward so he can crawl in her direction. She doesn't have much room for him, but he nestles himself nearer to her on the Mandalorian's pectoral and allows her to tickle him until the man chooses to speak again.

"_Dha Werda Verda ..._a story taken from the Taungs about one of their greatest battles. They were the first Mandalorians ...we keep the story as a way to honor them for the way of life they passed on," he gives her the summary rather than a direct transcription.

"_Dha Werda ...Verda_," Hanna attempts.

"Yes ...it means Warriors of the Shadow," he does translate that part for her.

"Hmmm..."

When he'd mentioned how the Mandalorians took in foundlings, it was clear that his is not a biological race. An culture, rather. This story seems to solidify that knowledge, that the Taung people had adopted other races and species to share their way of life.

And here he is sharing his origin story with his own sort-of-probably-foundling. The kid might not know it, but it looks a lot like an engraved invitation to Hanna. Which is interesting and scary and ..._adorable_, if she's honest.

"It's usually recited in groups," he goes on, unbidden. "Everyone drumming the beat on their chest plates..."

Hanna tries to picture a hundred versions of him crowded together to do that.

"That sounds like quite the sight..."

"...one you'd like to see?" his chin ticks in her direction.

"Uh..." there's probably only one good way to answer that, and Hanna knows it. "I would be intimidated, but yeah...yes."

"Intimidated?" he cranes his neck to look better at it.

She's not sure what's in his tone just then. Whether that was insulting to his brethren. In all honesty, she would have thought it was more of a compliment.

"...I mean, I'm not intimidated by _you_ anymore because I know you. But, yeah?" she shrugs in a sheepish way. "The mask, the armor ...it's a lot to get over when you haven't figured out who's behind it."

If that is, in fact, an insult ...they're just going to have to hash it out. Because any other answer from her would be a downright lie. She would know it, and if he took some time to reflect on the time they've known each other, he would know it, too.

Finding comfort with someone whose gaze you don't know takes time.

"I see," he considers, but moves on after hardly a beat. "If you ever meet other Mandalorians, you'll be with me. You'll be perfectly safe," he informs her like it's the easiest thing in the world.

And ...maybe it is?

If she meets his family - _his clan, as he's called it_ \- she supposes she would trust them because _he_ trusts them. Even so, she would be intimidated. That's just the facts, though she doesn't insist upon it for now.

"...that's comforting."

Because it is.

She's not sure she'll ever see another Mandalorian, but it is good to know that she would be welcomed. That it's not actually a scandal that he's traveling and consorting with a non-Mandalorian.

.

"Good morning!" her musings are interrupted by a shout from outside. "It's Winta!"

"And me!" another little voice joins the first one.

"That's Millie," Hanna sighs.

"I know her voice," the Mandalorian grumbles and relaxes the arm curled around her shoulders. "She's been my shadow..."

Hanna only chuckles.

"It's your fault," he gripes.

"...just for telling her you're nice?"

"Yes"

"Coming girls!" Hanna shouts and rolls out of bed, still chortling at him. "Good morning," she greets back when she cracks their door back.

"Has he had breakfast yet?" Winta gets straight down to business.

"Well?" Hanna twists to raise a brow at the littlest child. "Do you want to eat with them?"

He kid wiggles in excitement; the girls so often mean adventures for him. The Mandalorian helps him to the floor, and a few moments later the kid is in the doorway to chirp happily at them all.

Winta pumps a first into the air in triumph and thrusts a mug of tea at Hanna so that she can free her hands and extend them to him. The kid moves for her, trilling again when she picks him up and places him on her shoulder.

"My mother asked us to help pick berries after breakfast ...can he join us?" she returns her gaze back to Hanna. "He might be good at it; he can reach the low ones."

"...your mother will be there?"

"Yes. And Millie's mom and Emil's mom and ... _...lots_ of moms."

"Then sure ...keep an eye on him, though. He might eat all the berries when you turn your back," Hanna laughs but is also quite serious.

That's not the kind of mischief she would put past him.

"He's funny that way," Winta laughs, too.

Well, not so funny when he eats too much and throws up berries. But, _yeah_, real cute.

"Where is the Mandalorian?" Millie, in contrast to her friend, isn't satisfied yet.

"Oh," Hanna lowers her voice. "He's still sleeping."

Millie slaps her hand over her mouth to shush herself and then nods. With that, the girls jump off of the porch and dash towards breakfast.

.

"Lying to children, now?" the Mandalorian's chiding is light once she latches the door and turns back around.

"Well," she surveys him and takes a sip of the warm tea. "You _are_ still in bed."

"I am."

Hanna takes another long sip and watches him right back. Indeed, the man hasn't moved except to tuck one of his hands back up behind his head.

And ..._damn it_.

He has absolutely _no business_ pulling-off being faceless and somehow still attractive at the same time. No business whatsoever.

She can't even name the exact moment that his broad, armored frame went from intimidating to normal in her mind, let alone when that morphed into something else.

But here she is. Watching. _Noticing._ Thinking things.

And he's just staring right back.

"...nowhere to be this morning?"

Chasing off kids? Checking the watch? Bothering Cara?

Literally anywhere but still in bed?

He shakes his head slowly.

And he looks a whole lot like an invitation. If he doesn't mean to be one, then he seriously needs to rethink his body language.

.

Hanna sits her mug on the window sill and flips down the lock on the door feeling quite sure of herself.

Still, that doesn't stop her heart from hammering when she approaches his cot again. She sits to face him so that she can lean in and press her forehead against his. The metal is cool even in the warm morning, so it feels nice. As does the sentiment of the gesture.

She smiles down into him when one of his hand curls around his waist. He bestows a light squeeze there. Presses gentle but discernible pressure...

If part of her wishes he would just grab her around the waist and give her a pull to dispel all doubt, she dismisses it. He is giving his opinion without stating it. Asking without words, and giving her room to say no. Leaving space to make up her mind. Hanna should appreciate that.

She does.

She just happens to not need it.

So she shifts her weight and moves to straddle his waist. Then she presses her forehead back into his so she can hide whatever needless blush may be teasing her cheeks. The Mandalorian welcomes her by circling his hands around to her lower back. Smoothing one up until he presses between her shoulders to hold her where she is.

"Hi..." she smiles afresh.

He only answers with a hum that rumbles from his chest. Then uses the hand not holding her to rub a circle over her hip. Trails that slowly down her thigh to her knee, which he squeezes before moving right back to her hip.

Hanna's dark hair falls like a curtain around their heads and blocks out some of the morning light. She stares down into his visor and wishes for some super-special vision settings of her own. If only to know what color eyes he has...

"It's not fair," she eventually murmurs, nudging her head further forward and resting her eyes. "You can see me and I don't get to see all of you..."

She's already made it clear that she isn't trying to actually sneak a peak under there. Surely she's still allowed to lament the fact.

A bit.

You know, just for a second.

The Mandalorian doesn't answer but slides a hand past her shoulder and slowly down her arm to catch hold of her wrist. He pulls her hand from its place on the cot and draws it to his chest instead

He doesn't give any explanation for the move, which is a little annoying if Hanna's honest.

She sits up properly, and she doesn't miss the muted grunt beneath her when her weight settles onto his waist.

He still hasn't released her hand, so she stares at where it rests. Then eyes his top and its front buttons. Feeling bold, she wiggles her hand to slip past the gap between them and skims a few fingers over his bare chest. Underneath his skin is mostly smooth, a few coarse hairs scattered about. Hanna stretches her touch over every centimeter she can reach.

It isn't a lot, but it's more than before.

She glances up, but he is still quiet. Only when she meets the black of his visor does he pull her hand away and place it directly over the top clasp below his neck.

Hanna tilts her head questioningly, which is a gesture he ought to recognize.

He just leaves her there. Doesn't urge her on. Also doesn't tighten his grip to halt her when she works the first button open, then the next one below it. And he raises no protest when she uses her other hand to push the fabric aside as much as it allows.

Hanna traces his sternum and takes in the sight of him. This vulnerable expanse so often tucked away behind beskar, always hidden and protected.

_Ah_.

Roger that.

Fine. She gets what he's not saying.

She sees more of him than most do.

.

"What happened here?"

There's a scar under his collar bone, and she traces it toward his shoulder until it disappears into his sleeve.

He looks down, then shrugs.

"I was tracking an assassin on Kaddak," he recalls for her, one hand massaging her thigh and the other tracing her lower back in a way that makes her stifle squirming. "There are a lot of holes to hide out in on that planet."

"So they got the jump on you?" she lifts an eyebrow and traces the scar back towards his neck.

His fingers curl in tight to her spine for that. Her hips do twitch, then, but she snickers, too.

"Only for a second. Sliced me with virbo-knuckles before I saw it coming..."

"Vibro-knuckles?"

"Mmm," he nods and plucks up one of her hands to form a small fist. "A short vibroblade ...mounted here," he brushes a thumb over her knuckles, "for when you throw a hit," he directs her hand to mime a punch at his shoulder. "You usually don't even know they have one until you're already bleeding."

Hanna winces.

"...sounds vicious."

He nods his agreement while his fingers slip past the hem of her shirt. She tenses but settles herself quickly so he doesn't get the wrong idea. His hands certainly aren't dangerous or vicious _now_.

"So... I guess _you_ must own some, then."

There's a smirk in the huff that escapes his helmet.

"Yes. A few," his touch dances around and up closer to her navel. "Would you like me to teach you?"

His other hand returns to her back, where he surely knows she likes it. It's distracting for a few moments before she remembers the question.

"...I don't think you want to teach me," she decides while she looks down and pushes open the other side of his shirt, as well.

"No, I don't," he confirms and then sighs while she explores the other side of his chest, and his own hand skims back toward her hip to squeeze. "You have to get much too close to use one..."

As she'd suspected.

One of the Mandalorian's hands pushes higher to cup her ribs. It's wide and warm, slightly rough from use. Hanna exhales slowly and closes her eyes to enjoy it.

When a slight tickle makes her twitch, they pop back open.

"I'll just have to stick with a blaster, then," she returns to the topic.

"Mmm..." the fingers of both hands curl inward to pull at her. "_That_ I do like."

"Yeah?" she splays both hands wide on his chest and pushes them up over his collarbones, massages towards his shoulders.

"Yes...we can work on that again," he grunts as she kneads his muscles and smoothes a hand across Hanna's ribs to her spine and drags it down to join the other on her lower back.

He presses firmly and traces lightly in turn. Hanna can't help her sigh or the shiver that shakes down her spine. She isn't positive he's _trying _to goad her into undulating over him, but his incessant touch is making the urge hard to fight. She settles for trying to adjust her weight in a restless way, she and feels him hard under her.

.

He doesn't move away like last time.

Emboldened, Hanna does rock back onto him. Purposefully. Slowly. To see if he'll stop her. His fingers do falter. They flinch against her back, but nothing more than that.

And then they both still. Stare at one another. Hanna's heart races a little faster and bites at her lip in thought, but not from nerves.

Then she smiles.

"Can I ask you something?"

The Mandalorian nods his shaded helmet, so she plucks one of his hands off of her back.

"Am I allowed to kiss you the ...more wide-spread way?" she raises his hand towards her face to explain her meaning.

"Yes," his voice is tight but he doesn't have to stop and think about it.

Hanna flashes him a brighter smile and then looks away to kiss his palm, which is still warm from her own skin. Then kisses each finger tip that had been touching her, too, for good measure. So he knows_._

His hands are calloused, not soft the way his lips would be, but it's still the first skin of his that she has dared to put her mouth on.

"Does this feel unkind? Or selfish?" She hasn't forgotten that tantalizing, if also sad, conversation.

He inhales deep.

"No"

Still so few words.

Hanna kisses his palm again and shifts her weight back to try to get a read on his body. It's not easy. Especially when she knows what _she_ wants.

"I ...don't want to feel like I'm talking you into something here," she tells him plainly.

The hand on her back slides to her hip to squeeze tightly. The other twists in her grip to take control of her hand again and pull it towards his head. A spike of trepidation has Hanna trying to tug it back when it nears the chin of his helmet.

Her mind short-circuits a moment at the thought of reaching under it.

But he bypasses it entirely and leads her hand to his neck. Guides her fingers to the notch between his jaw and throat.

His pulse.

Which is racing.

Once her fingers are planted upon it, he rolls his hips up to mirror her own movements earlier.

.

So that's clear now.

.

It's alright if she grinds against him. He meets her.

It's alright if she gropes across his chest. He keeps pawing at her skin, too.

She can't kiss him the way she feels she is supposed to, but she can hear his breath grow ragged and imagine what it would feel like on her skin.

He doesn't urge her on with a perverse compliment when she stands from the bed to shuck her pants. But his gaze turns to lock on her and watch every movement.

He doesn't pull her back to him, either. But when she chooses to step back to the bed he does sit up to meet her.

"Can I?" it appears he can't quite keep himself from curling his fingers into the hem of her top, but he only pushes it up a few inches.

Then he tilts his head up and waits.

"...yeah," Hanna grins and appreciates the glimpses of his eagerness even if he does tamp them.

She lets him push it a few more inches before finishing the job for him and dropping the shirt to the floor.

"Where are you looking right now?" she's a shade bashful to just stand there and yet feels somehow bold, too.

Bold enough to ask, at any rate.

"Your face," he tilts his head up a little further. "You're blushing..."

"My face is all?" the corner of her mouth smirks up and her bare knee slides against his clothed one when she steps even closer. "I could put my things back on..."

"No," his answer isn't forceful, but it is swift. "You don't need to do that."

Hanna's smile flashes full. It widens when his hands come to span her now-bare hips, his fingers curling to entice her back.

Still an invite. A question.

She doesn't have to think about it. She lowers herself forward without hesitation, confident that she'll be comfortable there.

.

He presses his forehead into hers. Knowing what it means soothes any lasting jitters... and it's _almost_ satisfying enough.

She smooths her hands up over his helmet to rest to each side of his face.

"This stays on, doesn't it?" she doesn't want to sound whiney about it, but she needs to check. "Even now?"

"Even now," he confirms on a breath. "We can stop if that bothers you..."

He's not pushing. Not begging. But his fingertips are pressed into her skin like they live there.

There's really no question of whether she wants to continue at this point; her bare thighs bracketing him should be evidence enough of that.

She thinks this over anyway.

"What's it like in there?" she nuzzles her nose where his would be.

"...warm."

"Not lonely?"

"How could I be lonely right now?" his blunt nails scratch lightly down her back.

Hanna doesn't quite moan, but it's a near thing.

"So?"

"No...I don't want to stop"

Not now.

Not when the cool metal of his helmet is pressing into her skin.

Certainly not when he twists to lay them down on their sides and helps her fumble with a few more buttons in order to expose the rest of his body.

Or when he brings her hands to his bare torso to keep exploring while he hooks her leg up over his hip.

.

.

When he shifts onto his back later _\- after_ \- he pulls her along so that she's draped over him rather than scrunched against the wall.

It's thoughtful. As is grabbing the blanket he'd discarded that morning and tossing it over them. He doesn't straighten it so it's a somewhat half-hearted gesture, but it keeps air from trying to cool sweat-slicked swaths of skin, so the thought counts.

Hanna kisses his chest, then turns to nuzzle her cheek there. Listens to his decelerating heart and would consider dozing to its lulling beat if she weren't so keyed-up. The way the Mandalorian is drawing zig-zagging lines across her back is soothing, too, but her nerves are too acutely aware of the touch to really relax by it.

But she does relax. They both do. Forgoing words and eventually find themselves breathing in sync. Almost dozing.

So she's comfortable but conscious when he speaks quietly:

"No one's ever asked me that before ... ...what it's like wearing the helmet, I mean."

For a moment Hanna thinks she should be offended if _that _is his big take-away. But a more sane part of her knows that if he is returning to the topic after thorough - _if she may say so_ \- distraction, then it had clearly struck him.

"No?" she twists to rest her chin on his chest and watch him. "I don't see how they couldn't.

"Well, they don't," he shrugs a shoulder. "...they only ever ask why, or when I'll take it off, or what I'm hiding..."

"Oh? What _are_ you hiding?" she smirks.

It's not the best timed joke, perhaps, but she has never slept with someone she hasn't looked in the eye and it's a funky thing to think about. She has to remind herself that she _has_ looked him in the eye, that she'd felt it even before he'd said so ...and that counts for something. But the fact remains she has never seen his face and never will, and in a certain light that's uncomfortable.

Not the light she chooses to use, but still. It's out there and she needs to joke it off.

Luckily, he snorts. Though blunt nails do curl into the bottom of her spine in retaliation, all but forcing her to arch into him. The Mandalorian grunts at the pressure and releases her, which has her grinning again.

"So? ...what's it like?" Hanna's feeling languid and content and she'll take whatever more he wants to share.

"I answered you," he defends himself, and Hanna wonders if she's put him off of the topic by accident.

"C'mon," she kisses his sternum once more. "It's more than warm ...what's it like?"

"Hmmmm," he rubs up and down her entire back with his palm to sooth the previous shiver he'd created in her.

While he mulls this over, he raises his other hand to push back a chunk of hair from Hanna's face. It hadn't been bothering her but she hums a thanks and leans into the fingers pressing over her scalp. Which prompts him to continue doing it.

He's proving to be a quick learner that way.

.

"You don't have to say," she allows when he stays quiet for a little too long.

"I just haven't thought about it. It's been a long time ... ...it's stifling and sensory overload at the same time," he cocks his head like that doesn't quite make sense to him. "It's safety ...I can focus only on what I need to."

Safety.

She supposes that makes sense in multiple ways.

"Do you even like to take it off?"

"Yes," he's fair and doesn't have to think long about it. "I like fresh air on my face..."

Hanna knows she would like to see that, but she ignores the idea and reaches up so she can trace the cheek line of his mask.

"...when is the last time someone saw your face?" this ask is quieter and she'll let him ignore it if he wants.

"...many years."

Hanna traces the ridge all the way to the helmet's chin and taps the metal while she thinks.

She sighs and pushes herself up so she's straddling his stomach again, and his head shifts to where his gaze is clearly centered on her breasts. Never mind that he's seen them already, Hanna laughs and gathers the blanket to drape around her shoulders.

He doesn't protest but snorts at the antics. Then seems to ignore the fact that she's studying him and stretches up to brush his own thumb over the apple of her cheek just as she'd done to him.

"I fight with myself a little bit," she admits and traces the edge of his visor this time, "about whether I care what you look like under there..."

"It would be strange if you didn't," his hands massage over her knees.

"Vanity? Really?" she smirks at him.

"Vanity over appearance is ...kind of pointless in our clans..."

Clearly.

All the people he knows best are people he's never seen in their entirety. Or, at the very least, hasn't laid eyes on in a long time. He's connected to them in other ways. What does that say about the reasons he's learned to trust people? Or the ways he enjoys his interactions with others? It has to be something more deep-seated and earnest than the way a lot of people run through the world.

She can't help but wonder if his ideas of attraction and connection are lightyears from her own. Isn't sure if the possibility of the notion is one to be disgruntled or deeply flattered by.

Not that she'll ask that; it would be self-serving. She has a feeling he would answer, but there's no way he wouldn't flip the _vanity_ comment on her with another little scoff.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shakes her head.

"No...you're thinking very loudly," one of his hands slips up over her hip, now.

"It's just ...strange," she admits that part. "I don't know what I would even guess you look like in there..."

Also true.

"I'm sure you've thought about it..." his fingers tickle over her thigh, then dip down in between.

Well._ Duh._

"Obviously ..." she twitches a fraction in surprise but melts to his intimate touch quickly. "But I haven't... filled in all the blanks, I guess."

"Blanks?"

"Mmhmm..." Hanna's eyes fall shut while he starts to stroke her in small, slow circles.

He'd taken notes earlier, it seems.

"Such as?" the Mandalorian tugs at the blanket that's gone slack in her hold so that it drapes open over her shoulders.

She can't manage to be too shy about it now. Just rolls her hips into his hand instead. He allows it for a while before patting her hip with his free hand.

When she peeks her eyes open he tilts his head _just so_. To remind her he's waiting on an answer. Though she can't imagine he'd too concerned or else he would stop touching her.

Which he doesn't.

"That's not ...rude to ask?"

"Do I seem offended?"

Hanna shakes her head, then answers properly: "No."

He hums and presses two fingers into her.

The move is abrupt but not altogether unenjoyable. Hanna shifts her hips and tilts forward to brace her hands on his chest.

"Alright?" he stills.

"Mmhmm..."

"Hmm...then you were saying?"

His hand is moving again, and he sounds pleased with himself. To be fair, Hanna is pretty damn delighted, as well.

However, it isn't precisely what she would call fair. Not if he's looking for conversation.

Hot, though? _Yes._

"Well ...I know what your skin looks like," she gives it a go anyway, interrupting herself with a sigh before plowing on. "...I can assume the color of your hair ...eyes, too, probably..."

"Probably," he agrees.

"Everything else is ...I don't know. I just...I can't settle," she tries to explain. "And it's something different any ...anytime I think of it ... ..." her words are half a sigh.

"That doesn't bother you?"

_That's_ a complicated question. One she's not sure she's ready to broach with her attention split between his fingers, the heat pooling in her belly, and the dozens of different faces her mind's eye has created for him.

"Mmmm," Hanna shakes her head and then darts a hand down to grab his wrist. "Wait..." she shifts her hips again before she nods and lets him go. "There... ...no, no you don't have to slow down..."

He takes the direction for the help that it is and does as she says without a word. Hanna might have thought herself bold for giving instructions except that he'd _said_ he didn't want to be selfish, so she doesn't want to let him be if she can help it. Her understanding is that it's been a while, and he'd hesitated. Asked. Checked this by her more than once. So if she gives a tip ...who's losing?

No one.

"Do you want to ask?"

Shit but Hanna is _into_ this conversation. On the other hand, she doesn't want him to stop touching her.

"...what?"

"You heard me," he's chuckling.

"I ... ...feel like it's a trick question..." she blinks slowly.

"It's not ...you can ask anything you want," the hand not driving her to distraction skates up her side in a soothing way.

"Maybe..." she pauses to gasp. Then moans the breath back out. "Maybe later?"

He takes a moment on that.

"You're taking a lot on faith for no reason..."

Hanna frowns. That doesn't seem right.

She has to replay the words.

He _does_ feel selfish. Like he's getting more. Taking more.

"I ...I have reasons," her eyes search for his under the visor.

His hand stills a moment and so does her gaze, trusting he's looking back.

"Shit, Hanna," he curls his fingers and then resumes his pace after her faint groan. "Just ...just ask me _something_..."

If he's important to him, fine.

"Ummm, mmm... ...are you older than me?"

And she _has_ wondered that. Hadn't planned to ever ask, but here they are.

"Yes"

She'd thought so.

"Uh-huh ... ...how much?"

"Six or seven ...maybe eight..."

"You don't-?" She leaves it. Doesn't care right now why he doesn't know for sure. "Mmm. Can you ..."

Hanna finds his shoulder. Pulls on it.

He sits in a swift move, pulling his hand from her and fitting her over him easily.

.

More and more of the village is waking up. Coming to life outside the bubble they are trying to live in this morning.

Though they don't really care about the growing noise outside their windows, they aren't deaf to it, either. So the Mandalorian presses a hand over Hanna's mouth when she starts to come undone riding him.

A thing he seems to regret almost as soon as they've both finished.

"Sorry," he pants and slides his hand away to cup the back of her head instead. "I didn't want-"

People to hear.

_Yeah_.

She'd lived in tiny apartments stacked on top of each other, so she reads him loud and clear.

"I know," Hanna grins and pulls his hand back around so she can kiss the palm that had smothered her last moan. "I don't mind. I'm kind of glad," she chuckles.

She does _not_ need Caben walking by and hearing what their up to.

Or Cara.

Or anyone, really.

She's happy to hear him huff quietly under his helmet in his own amusement now that he sees she doesn't mind.

"...and I have reasons, you know," she taps the side of his helmet for his full attention. "They just happen to not involve your face."

The Mandalorian doesn't respond except to pet along her back while he works on tempering his breathing.

"Are you listening?" Hanna checks quietly and nudges his head with her chin.

Her reasons involves the sorts of things he doesn't seem to want to hear about himself, but she can spell it out if she needs.

"I hear you"

"Good ...I know I'm naked; I would hate for that to be distracting..."

Another soft snort from him is rewarding.

It's bold of her again, maybe. But something about his diffidence is making her want to meet him there and pick up the slack.

.

She believes him that sex isn't new to him, but someone's done a number on him. Or maybe he's done a number on himself. That seems as likely as anything.

Conversely, Hanna had been lucky in that arena. Baevis _\- big, brutish Kyuzo that he was_ \- hadn't given two shits about sex; more broadly, he hadn't given two shits about anything the workers did that didn't effect their work. Unable to have a say in her work, lodgings, or citizenship, Hanna _did _have dominion over what she did with her body in her free time. If that meant sneaking around the dormitories like an idiot with a couple nice boys she'd met during her time on Castillion ...then so be it. That hadn't expressly broken any rules.

So she knows that _this_ ...it can be fun. Happy. Something good for both of them. It's clear that he hasn't had the same experiences, so it's humbling to know he trusts her to prove otherwise. As per usual, he's saying a lot without words here.

Maybe she is, too.

Not that the Mandalorian specifically needs to know any of this...

.

"You _are_ distracting," he responds belatedly.

"Nice of you to say so," Hanna snickers some more.

She presses a kiss to his forehead and then rests her head there so she can heave a heavy sigh through her shoulders.

"I don't suppose we can get away with staying in here all day?"

"...only if you'd like Cara to get an eyeful," he responds after some thought. "She _will_ find a way in here if she hears we're holed up."

Hanna laughs happily despite this wanton morning transitioning to its end.

"She'd like that a little too much"

"...without a doubt."

That said, he's not pushing her off. Isn't bustling around to get his armor back on. He's just sitting. Waiting. Watching, so far as she can tell.

.

She moves herself back away from him. Settles on her own haunches so she can tug as his clothes and start re-looping his buttons.

"You don't-"

"I know..." she gives him a brief grin and then makes quick work of tugging at his flight suit and fastening the entire garment back up.

As soon as she's finished, the Mandalorian has snatched the thin blanket from behind her to offer it up for use again.

"If you want it..."

She wants to _not _want it, certainly. She should be used to the consistency of being more physically exposed than him...

"No regrets in there, right?" she ignores the gift for now and brushes a finger over the chin of his helmet.

"No"

"Mmm," she chews on her lower lip despite herself but slips off of his lap without snagging the blanket.

She scoops up her clothes but heads back to her cot with optimistic confidence that no one is tall enough to peek through the windows of their raised barn without making a ruckus.

Or with hitherto unknown confidence coming from the simple fact that the Mandalorian _is_ watching. She even glances over her shoulder to check. Smiles one last time when he is, in fact, standing and still eyeing her.

It's coquettish and unnecessary. She's well aware.

But it feels good.

.

Hopefully not _too_ good.


	18. In Focus

_****Couple paragraphs** **of smut here at the beginning; can totally be skipped****_

**_..._**

**_..._**

**Chapter 18: ****In Focus**

"...good? You good?" the Mandalorian's breathing is hard. Choppy through his modulator.

Hanna nods. She doesn't believe he _needs_ to confirm that.

Also isn't surprised that he does it anyway.

"Hmm...what do you think?" her own breath is still heavy against his helmet where she has tucked her face against it. Fogging up his visor again, likely

"I'm asking..." he rolls his hips forward a last time.

He's soft, now, but of course she can still feel him. Hanna sighs and wraps a hand around the arm planted just next to her head. Gives the muscles of his forearm a squeeze.

"...well, I'm good. I'm perfect..."

"Perfect," he echos her and extracts himself from her, though he remains hovering over her.

"Mmhmm..."

They're both lethargic. Spent. But he holds his weight up on his arms for her comfort. Also so that he can keep a good look at her chest, where he had dislodged her shirt earlier to expose more skin.

Hanna chuckles and tugs at her neckline to right it. She ignores his tut of dismay, but the protest does keep a grin on her face.

Once the view is gone, he settles down onto his elbows. There, he can nuzzle his forehead into hers and scrape his fingers over her scalp.

She rests her eyes lightly.

And it feels _good_.

.

They have been stealing very late nights or early mornings over the last couple weeks, slipping into one bed or the other. Sometimes just to touch each other. Other times .._.for quite a bit more_.

They usually try to save sex for the mornings when one of the children have come to whisk the baby away to breakfast. However some times, like today, they go ahead and get carried away. They have to go out of their way to be quiet, but there is something about this that Hanna enjoys. It's a little less serious and a little more rushed, and there's something innocent and silly _\- almost stupid_ \- in it that makes her feel young. That somehow makes it seem like the Mandalorian doesn't even have a helmet on. The way he chuckles and they shush each other, and when she grins at him she can feel him return it. She doesn't even have to ask.

"And we made it," Hanna grins.

Because the child is the ultimate cock-block. He has managed to interrupt them a couple times with a cluelessness that is so adorable it's almost hard to be annoyed.

_Almost_.

The Mandalorian snorts and drops his face to her collarbone.

"Yeah..."

Her legs are still looped over his calves, so he's stuck with her a little longer. She takes advantage to stroke across his shoulders and up over the stretch of his neck that's exposed under his helmet.

He doesn't stop her anymore. Leans into it, rather. Squeezes his hands into her long hair. That's as good as him telling her he enjoys it.

But not with words.

Wondering if she can get him to, Hanna curls her fingers into the back of his neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark but with more than enough pressure to feel her short nails. Hanna's only rewarded by a grunt, so she pushes a hand down, scratching toward his shoulder blades. His hands clench tightly into her hair and tug a fraction.

"We don't have time..."

Hanna laughs at his warning but releases him. Melts backwards onto the cot.

"I know. You're just so quiet..."

It's not a complaint, not really.

If at some point she'd imagined the Mandalorian would become a man of many eloquent words once they grew closer, she'd been wrong. But she's not offended. She's used to it and can read him better every day.

"Does that bother you?"

No?

Yes?

From time to time.

Hanna shakes her head. Isn't trying to ask for more than he's giving. She just likes to poke. Prod him from time to time.

"I'm not bothered," she reaches her hands down so they can slip under his shirt. "I just tease..."

To prove it, she tickles over his flank. His only reaction is in the contraction of his abs. Proving himself, too.

"You're stubborn," she pats his side with a smile that's far from upset.

It's a thing she already knows, after all.

"Yes"

Smiling wide, she lifts her head to bonk against his beskar helm, then drops a more traditional kiss where his mouth must be.

.

"Myah! Eh?" Sleepy squeaking joins them from across the barn.

In her mind's eye, Hanna sees the kiddo stretching lazily.

"Kriff..." the Mandalorian sags heavily against her, his weight constricting her chest.

She laughs but he doesn't move right away, apparently thinking very little of her plight.

"I'll get him," she taps-out on his back, and he does sit up, then.

"No. It's alright," he shoves himself out of bed and rights his clothing rather than flop to the side and let her do the work of fetching the baby.

"Not complaining..." Hanna stretches and pulls on the discarded blanket at the foot of his cot to pull over herself.

It's soft and it smells musky and metallic, just like he does.

_Not _complaining.

"Don't get too comfortable," he ruins this completely after scooping up the giggling child. "We have work to do..."

Right.

They had plans to continue their self defense lessons.

Not as nice as laying in bed together, but it would still be an excuse to have their hands on each other...

.

.

"_Well_. It's obvious why you asked me for help," Cara smirks over at the Mandalorian from where she is straddling Hanna on the ground.

Cara's been called in as back up for their sparring lesson today. Or, as she's saying, they've finally called-in the big guns.

The master.

The grand chief

The Mandalorian has already told her to shut up more than once.

"I don't need help. I just want to use you as an example..."

"Yeah," Cara's much too happy as she smirks at the man. "Because you wouldn't want the innocent villagers to see _you two_ in a compromising position like this."

She turns her smirk onto Hanna, who's laying on her back, and waggles her eyebrows. Hanna can't say she knows how to to feel about it. Isn't sure whether she should hide her face, tell Cara to buzz off, or maybe she should just laugh out loud...

"Feel free to hit her any time you like," the Mandalorian tilts his head down at Hanna.

He, clearly, has decided how _he_ feels about the teasing.

"Yeah right!" Hanna does laugh, then.

Cara crows triumphantly and pounds her fist against her chest.

"You're both useless," the Mandalorian sounds as though he's very much regretting the entire day's plans.

"Alright, alright," Cara gets with the program, grabs both of Hanna's wrists, and slams them to the ground.

Even though this is scripted and they're here specifically for this _\- to learn and practice_ \- Hanna feels nervous at once. Cara's look seems to suggest she can tell.

"Yeah ...this is the real stuff," the dominant woman nods.

"That's enough"

"Fuck you. It is," Cara flips her hair to scoff at the Mandalorian and then turns back to looming over Hanna. "Whattcha gonna do, princess?"

That stings for half a moment. Feels condescending. Hanna swiftly reminds herself that Cara doesn't mean anything sour. No, she has jumped at the chance to help out. She'd agreed this was vital for Hanna to practice.

Of course that _does_ mean she and the Mandalorian aren't finding excuses to touch more while in public, but this is important all the same

Cara's right. It's all real, obviously, but the position Cara is in over her is ultimately what women are looking to thwart, right? The very problem Hanna had feared upon relocating to Castillion to live alone in a foreign place.

_'A sweet deal...'_

Yeah. That had been real stuff. So Hanna steels herself. Runs over the instructions they've already reviewed.

"Yeah," she nods. "Ready?"

"The hell are you asking that for!" the Mandalorian interrupts.

"Huh?" Hanna twists her head toward him. "You said she could face plant..."

"I won't," Cara shrugs.

"And that's her problem. Not yours," the Mandalorians arms are folded tightly where he's leaning lazily against the storage hut.

"Yeah, normally...but since we're-" Hanna pauses when Cara sighs and releases her, sitting back on her hips to wait out the discussion. "We're just practicing, aren't we?"

"Cara can take care of herself"

"I'm aware of that," Hanna props herself up on an elbow to send him a better _'no duh' _look.

"Yes, please, keep complimenting me," Cara fans herself in faux-dramatics.

"You need to make sure you're focusing"

He's testy.

Is it Cara? Had he just not slept enough? Is he a little too warm under the helmet? Hanna can't help but wonder if practicing _this_ does disturb him. She remembers the way he'd turned on her in the desert when she had suggested he'd merely spared her from the camp of bandits because she was a bounty to haul in. Perhaps this is one of those honor things. Some Mandalorian boundary of conduct she doesn't know.

Possible.

But, you know, screw him if he thinks she doesn't take it seriously.

Maybe they've been enjoying self defense lessons more than usual this past week - _lingering more than necessary_. But this isn't like that.

"I know"

"Super!" Cara chirps and dives back in.

She pins Hanna again in one fluid movement. Hanna's weight falls from her elbows so her head knocks back hard enough to jar her. The vulnerable position sends a short bolt of fear down her spine again.

.

Before she can gather herself and perform the move they've been miming _\- without checking with Cara first since that is apparently sacrilege _ \- the woman rears back up off of her, one arm failing out to the side.

The soldier shouts in surprise and then falls onto her back between Hanna's feet.

"Cara!?" Hanna sits up quickly.

If this is a joke, it's a strange one.

"The fuck!" Cara is panting like she was shoved back hard enough for her breath to be knocked from her.

Or she's a little panicked. Maybe both?

Not a joke, then.

Hanna's hair flies as she flicks her head towards the kid instinctively. The Mandalorian is looking down, too. No longer lounging but standing up straight, arms at his side, and staring down at the kid whose hand is still raised in the air.

When he spots that he has Hanna's attention, he squeals and toddles on rapid feet in her direction.

"Holy kriff..." Hanna scrambles to her knees and scoops him up before he reaches the women.

"Okay," Cara growls. "You know what...!" she shoves herself to her feet, too.

"Cara," Hanna makes sure to cradle the kid in the arm furthest from the soldier.

But she's not charging anyone even if her chest is heaving like she wants to.

"No! I wasn't going to say anything about him -"

"Then don't," the Mandalorian cuts her off with a bite.

The two fighters stare each other down. The kid doesn't do much but watch and blink, but Hanna can't imagine he'll remain so placid if something heated kicks up.

"Alright," she interjects as much calm against the tension as she can. "It's okay. Just ...here. Take him home," she darts over to the Mandalorian and presses the kid into his hands. "Please?"

The man stares down at her for a few seconds but then stomps away.

"He didn't hurt you, right?" Hanna tears her gaze from his retreating form and back to the other woman.

"No," Cara's jaw is still tight while she breathes heavily through her nose.

"Good. It's ...he was just protecting me, I think," Hanna squirms.

Because he's done this before, hasn't he? Not always when she's wanted him to, but he had stepped up before. She has thanked him. Praised him so he knows he did well. How was he supposed to know this wasn't a real threat?

"Lucky you..."

They stare at each other, now. It's not as laced as it had been between Cara and the Mandalorian, but they also aren't as equal a threat to one another. They are safe to be at odds and still know where they stand.

"What?" Hanna sighs. "Just say it..."

They may as well at this point.

"Okay. I will. That," Cara points a finger where the kid had been, "could go bad just as easy as it could go right. You get that?"

_As if_ Hanna's never considered that. Thought about how irrational kids can be and whether he'll ever have a tantrum with those powers. If they're just living on lucky time.

"Look, he's only a kid. He didn't hurt you, so -"

"Do you_ hear what I'm saying_?" the soldier remains insistent.

"... ...yeah."

Of course she does.

"Okay ...I like the little guy, too ...but you need to figure out what the hell to do for him..."

"And what do you suggest?"

Seriously. She's not above alien baby advice.

"Kriff all if I know," Cara snorts. "But did someone teach him that?"

Yes?

No?

_Who the kriff are they supposed to ask? _

"I have no clue..."

"Well you might wanna find out"

"Yeah...maybe..."

A few awkward moments of silence pass.

"Alright momma bantha ...you want to finish or what?" Cara sighs and throws up her hands lightly.

Hanna glances off at the barn the Mandalorian had disappeared to.

He _had_ told her to focus.

"Sure. We should..."

.

.

The Mandalorian is pacing when she finally returns to the barn. Meanwhile, the kid is standing in his crib chewing on the railing while he watches the man with earnest eyes.

"Where have you been?!"

Whoa. Maybe she'd eft him alone too long to stew.

"With Cara. She thinks th-"

Without waiting to hear the whole answer, the Mandalorian lungs at her to snag her arm. He spins her around and pins her back against his chest. Yanks her hair to force her head up.

And _not_ in a sexy way.

"Hey!"

If it's an impromptu lesson, this is bad timing. She had wanted to talk about some things. _Needs _to talk about some things. To see if he shares Cara's concerns.

"...he's not doing it."

Indeed. The kid is still just standing in the crib watching. He has even abandoned the railing in order to laugh at them.

"So?"

The Mandalorian releases her hair and reaches for his hip.

"Look, don't-"

He tightens his arm around her torso, making her huff out a breath. He gets the blaster free of its holster and shoves it roughly against her side.

Then stares at the kid.

"_Merlp_!"

Hanna knows the Mandalorian isn't going to shoot her, but she isn't comfortable all the same.

"Let go ... ...I said _let go_," she shoves at his arm when it slackens, then gives him a push for good measure. To make herself feel a little better. "What's your problem?!"

"Why didn't he stop me?"

Overall, that question feels very loaded. But she's not going to lean in that far.

"I don't know," she focuses on the current issue. "He's a kid ...he's inconsistent, if you hadn't noticed. Besides, why would he stop you doing anything you want? He trusts you."

The Mandalorian snorts.

"What?"

"I shot someone right in front of him," he throws a hand towards the door to emphasize what had happened out there. "He was _covered_ in blood."

Like she needs a damn reminder of that.

"Yeah. You did. _To save him_."

The Mandalorian scoffs again.

"He couldn't possible understand that"

Excuse him? How many times have they discussed the kid's intuition? She thought they were on the same page with that.

"...you don't know that for sure."

"Come on!"

"What? You feed him and clean him and hold him ... ...you comfort and protect him. Of course he's going to trust you," Hanna holds her hands out in an innocent sort of way. "What do you expect?"

The Mandalorian grunts and for some time just stands and stares at the kid. The little guy gazes back, smiling and attempting to give a few little waves. The gestures aren't reciprocated, however.

.

Finally, he turns to stomp away.

"Where are you going?" Hanna starts when she realizes he's actually going to the door, not just his corner.

He doesn't answer.

By the time she reaches the doorway he's already down off of the porch and trudging past the first pond, cloak billowing behind him.

It all looks a little dramatic.

Maybe it is.

.

.

He's gone for the rest of the day. Hanna tries not to find that alarming, and for most of the time that's easy to do. The weather is fine so there is plenty going on. The kids play while Hanna lingers nearby with Omera. Finally, she's learning some of the weaving business because the new supplies are in.

Omera and the others working with them make the work look simple and mindless since they are so practiced, but it takes a lot of Hanna's focus. Is frustrating to keep starting over, but at least it's time consuming and they are patient with her.

So the afternoon and evening pass quickly even with a nagging in the very back of her mind. She's sure the Mandalorian would tell her not to worry about him _\- of all people_ \- but he is hyper-confident to the point of reckless so she's a little concerned, anyway.

.

Especially once night has fallen and the kid's asleep. Then there's less to do and Hanna has more space in her head to think about everything.

Everything he'd done _\- rude, by the way_ \- and said.

He's freaking out.

And not just about the kid's move against Cara. About what he _hasn_'t done. About being trusted by the kid.

At least when he doubts Hanna she can argue him down. Explain herself. The kid ...he's more of an unknown for obvious reasons. The Mandlaorian can project whatever anger or doubt he wants onto the little guy.

She's not sure just what she should do about that. Maybe nothing. Maybe it's something he needs to work out on his own. And maybe that's exactly what he's doing right now.

Panic stabs her for a moment _\- maybe even two _\- when she entertains the thought that he's left. As in _gone_ gone. Flown off because the kid and his powers and all of it is too much.

But his things are still here.

It's a comfort to quell the bubbling nausea that had come with the feeling of abandonment.

.

With that small comfort, she _is_ eventually able to drift to sleep.

Slow.

A little fitful.

But cozy curled under her blankets.

.

Right up until the thin mat of the cot sinks behind her.

Her body tilts back enough to rouse her, at which point Hanna also notices pressure on her waist. She inhales sharp and starts to pull herself towards the edge of the bed, but the warm pressure curls around her hip.

"It's me"

She knows the voice... though only barely.

It's the Mandalorian, but his voice is entirely unencumbered. No mask or modulator

Hanna freezes because she no longer needs to flee and also because she's not sure what the _kriff_ to do.

"Are you-!" her voice is higher than it has any need to be, but. _Still_.

"It's fine"

_Uh._ Since when?

The Mandalorian curls himself securely around her.

"Just keep facing the wall..."

Yes, she knows that much.

"Okay... ..." Hanna tries to relax.

The way he rubs his wide hand over her hip helps her to do so. Smoothing from her waist down her upper leg and then up again. Back and forth.

"I was in bed, but..."

_But what_? But he's gone mad instead? Cool, cool, cool.

"He _shouldn't_ trust me," he asserts when he goes on again.

Hanna sighs.

"...like _I_ shouldn't?"

"Maybe"

And yet Hanna has to wonder if he truly believes that. After all, it's not as if he is over here acting like any sort of deterrent.

"Well...I've told you what I think about that," Hanna reminds him and catches his roaming hand to give it a squeeze. "You don't get to decide for me."

The arm around her slips up her waist and tightens. The Mandalorian presses his nose into her hair, inhaling deep.

"The child makes no sense," he argues on stubbornly. "He needs to learn better..."

Hanna hears him just fine, but she's distracted with the job of comparing his voice now that she hears him with no helmet. It's still low. Still raspy. But a little less of both.

"Well, it's not like you can reason with him. He just ...knows."

Hanna may not have many facts on the kid, but she knows that much is true. He's frail and he's strong. He can't talk, but he can make himself known. He might not have a vocabulary, but he understands who and what people are.

One way or another.

"He _doesn't_ know," he Mandalorian insists and traces his fingers over her stomach.

"...he knows enough."

All he does then is grumble.

"And I think you know it, too..."

He goes very still behind her. His hand flattens out on her middle and presses down in a would-be stifling way.

"What?" Hanna forces herself to resist turning to look over her shoulder. "Didn't you say that your people take in kids? I've kind of been thinking that's what drew you to him in the first place..."

He grumbles a little more under his breath and then huffs hard enough to ruffle her hair.

"I stand by what I said"

Eh. Sure. That tracks.

"Yeah, well ...I guess you wouldn't be you if you didn't."

He sighs but doesn't seem to be offended by the words. Just resumes stroking her, rubbing a path over her clothing from ribcage to hip and then back.

.

Hanna could argue more, but she doesn't think she'll actually convince him of anything on the matter. She also doesn't feel as worried now as before. He is back, and he'll figure it out. For now, he keeps himself curled close so he can hide his face behind her. She is curious, naturally, but isn't inclined to turn around. She just cuddles in to get comfortable.

In doing so, she can feel his crotch against her ass. Can tell that he's not entirely unaffected by being squeezed so close against her. Hanna grins into the dark and frees a hand to reach behind her.

The Mandalorian captures her wrist and brings it slowly back in front of her to tuck against her chest.

"I didn't come over here with ulterior motives," his breath swims over her ear and she shudders. Wants to feel that again.

"I didn't say that you did..."

But since when have distractions been unwelcome?

She waits to see if he changes his mind, but he remains where he is pressed up behind her with her hand tucked in his. Part of her finds that to be a let down, but she is grinning fresh anyway.

.

.

When Hanna wakes in the morning it's because her covers are being tugged. Then a familiar, squeaky burble invades her ears.

It's a common way to wake up.

Less familiar is the weight around her and the stiffness in her hips from not moving for hours...

Then she remembers the Mandalorian!

Not that she forgets him -_impossible!_ \- but this is not where he generally wakes up.

Hanna's eyes snap open in surprise to see the kid has managed to crawl up near her waist. She frees a hand from her blanket to push his head down so he can't see the man behind her. He squeaks in dismay when he face-plants against the cot.

She feels a little bad for it, to be honest.

Even more so when she hears a chuckle behind her.

"He's fine," the sound of the Mandalorian's voice is filtered in the way she is accustomed to.

In a way it's a disappointment... but at least she doesn't have to worry.

"Very sneaky," she wonders at what point he'd put the helmet back on.

He gives nothing away but begins to trace her waist while she lets the kid up.

The little one pouts and wiggles his claws at her in annoyance once he shuffles back to his feet. Even so, he doesn't run away when she tickles his chin. He just preens happily.

"Good morning," she greets both of her companions.

The kid interprets this to mean him only, and he chirps back at her. The Mandalorian stays quiet but pauses to squeeze her hip before resuming rubbing her side.

The baby watches the progression of his hand up and down Hanna's side and leaps at the fingers when they drift by him. He grabs a digit in each hand and leans against Hanna's stomach to keep hold when the hand keeps moving. The Mandalorian doesn't offer any admonishment, but he does wiggle free of the kid's grasp and shifts carefully onto his back.

Away.

There's a little less room in Hanna's cot than his, but he makes it work.

"So ...should I keep him over here?" Hanna checks when the kid starts attempting to summit her torso to get after the man.

"... ...no," he elects at length.

Once he decides, he reaches over Hannah to pluck the kid up and deposit the squirmy little guy on his own chest. She grins to herself and rests her eyes again wondering if she'll be able to get back to sleep with him occupying the kid.

But then he starts speaking quietly in _Mando'a_.

She can't help peeking over her shoulder to watch. There, the kid sits splayed-leg on the Mandalorian's ribs, and he's staring with rapt attention like he's being told a harrowing story.

And maybe he is.

Hanna returns to her pillow and listens to the low speech. It's even and low enough to be soothing rather than inhibit her ability to rest.

The quiet noise and the memory of the Mandalorian's breath in her hair is enough to help her drift off.

.

.

Hanna wakes up alone when she next opens her eyes.

That suggests there's no more time for lolly-gagging, so this time she gets out of bed and dresses properly.

Outside, the Mandalorian is sitting on one of the porch chairs watching Winta, Millie, and some boys playing with the kid between two of the closer ponds. His feet are kicked up on a nearby crate, his hands folded in his lap looking languid and peaceful.

"Winta brought you tea," he ticks his head towards the door when she enters the doorway. "It might be cold already..."

She finds the mug by the door and snatches it to take a sip. Finds it palatable; she'll just need to drink it quickly.

"Thanks for letting me sleep"

"Mm," he frees a hand to brush his fingers over the back of her knee when she draws nearer, then tucks it right back where it had come from in his lap.

"Did Millie ask you to play?" Hanna smirks and takes a long drink of the tea.

"No," his answer is even as if he's unbothered. "She did tell me Cara approves of my advice. About the kicking..."

"The validation you wanted, I'm sure"

He snorts behind his mask.

Even despite their conversation, Hanna notes that he hasn't stopped watching the children. Clocking their every move, she's sure.

"...what did you talk to him about? When he was sitting with you?"

He does look away and turn his gaze fully up at her, then.

"I know. I'm nosey. You don't have to s-"

"Rules. Lessons," he shrugs like this is nothing and turns back to his overseeing of the activities out in front of the barn.

.

Hanna studies him and wonders whether this is how Foundlings are treated: allowed to play but monitored and taught all the while. She thinks about what Cara had said about the need to do something formal with the kid.

Has to wonder whether the Mandalorian already is.


	19. I Know

**_**Some sexy times at the end; so heads up if you would rather skip**_**

**...**

**...**

**Chapter 19****: I Know**

Hanna's head is spinning.

Something cold and sick is churning up in her gut and creeping up to her chest.

It had just been a normal day to start with.

.

_She'd spent the early afternoon at the lake where the kid had gleefully chased tadpoles all over the shallows. He'd even eaten a few; Hanna had pretended not to notice as he slurped them down._

_By the end of the excursion, he had made a soaked mess of himself and seemed quite proud of it._

"_You're going to need a bath," she tried to sound grumpy but ruined it with a grin._

_He'd been so damn excited about his hunt. It was hard to be mad._

_She was edging along the side of the barn when she caught Cara's voice. Hanna smiled to herself, glad the woman was there. She had worried that Cara might become distant after the kid's incident, but she had been around as regular as ever the past few days. She had even brought a jogan fruit as a peace offering._

_Or maybe as a joke._

_Whatever the reason, Hanna was just glad to know all was well._

"_You're going to break his little heart," Hanna took pause when Cara's words registered. "Not to mention your girl's..."_

"_She'll be fine"_

_That's the Mandalorian. And ...well, there's only so many women they would be likely to talk about, right?_

"_Uh-huh..."_

"_They'll be safe here without me, now. My life is no life for a kid, and she ...she just thinks she owes me," he goes on after a pregnant pause. "We're... an obligation to each other..."_

_That...it wasn't easy to hear him say that. And maybe she didn't hear any confidence in his voice, but she still choked on a thick lump in her throat._

_Cara just laughed like it wasn't devastating._

"_You are so full of shit"_

"_Is that so?"_

"_Yes. That is so," Cara pitched her voice low to mock him, and Hanna could envision her contemptuous look. "Trust me," she returned to form. "She ain't obligated to look at you the way she looks at you..."_

"_Cut it out."_

"_What? I wish she looked at __**me**_ _like that..."_

"_Maybe if you learned to mind your own business..."_

"_I will not," Cara laughed all over again. "Yours is more interesting."_

"_Right," he grunted. "Glad to entertain."_

"_You really have been. Until now ... ...you're a dick. You know that, don't you?"_

"_...I've been told."_

_A snort, then. Definitely from Cara. _

"_I'm not shocked ... ...she won't forgive you," she grew quite serious._

_A beat passed._

_Then two._

"_Good. I can't have two more people to look after. My life doesn't allow for that..."_

_Hanna glanced down at the kid in her hands. Who was wet and had been so happy moments ago. He was just staring up at her now. Blinking and solemn._

"_They'll be happy here. Safe..."_

"_Who're you trying to convince...me? Or you?" there was still a smirk about Cara's tone despite her disapproval._

"_I'm right about this"_

_Another snort. Then: "Look. You might not be wrong, okay? ...that doesn't make you right."_

"_This is why I do better on my own..."_

"_Oh. Yeah. That's right. You've been having a __**real**_ _hard time here. I forgot."_

"_I. Can't."_

"_It's good to have people," Cara plowed right over his protests. "You get that, right?"_

_No, Hanna thought. He probably didn't. Not really._

"_We did a good thing here. You could let yourself enjoy it."_

"_Yeah?" he scoffed. "Just sit on the porch and drink spotchka?"_

"_Fuck yeah. The kid's weird, but he's cute ...Hanna's your number one fan, and you're always fretting over her like you're ready to dive into a Sarlacc and pull her out. You could built a real house...have a country bumpkin family. Hoards of Mando kids and-"_

"_That's enough"_

"_Why?"_

"_I have duties. Other obligations. They aren't safe..."_

_The Covert. He'd made no secrets about his desire to find out where they relocated. To be sure everyone was alright after they'd helped him, Hanna, and the kid escape. Given how much she owed them, Hanna couldn't fault him._

"_So you run away..."_

"_I'm __**right**_ "

"_Yeah, yeah ... ...so. When are you going?"_

"_Soon"_

"_Are you even going to tell her? Because I swear to every damn star, if you dip out and leave me to-"_

"_I'm telling her," the Mandalorian overrode any more griping._

"_Alright ...good luck with that," the smirk had returned to Cara's voice._

_A few moments of quiet passed, and then there was some stomping along the porch. Hanna knew that it was the Mandalorian's gate marching away. For a moment she feared discovery, but he did't come her way._

_When she came around the barn, it was to see Cara still seated in her favored wicker chair. Whatever was on Hanna's face - and she really couldn't guess at that point - must have conveyed that she heard the whole conversation because Cara's shoulders slumped._

"_Well shit..."_

.

So. Yeah. Hanna feels a little nauseous.

But ...is it fair to be surprised?

Maybe yes. They've come so far together. In more ways than one.

But also possibly no. Had the Mandalorian ever actually _said_ he intended for them to leave together? Maybe she'd assume all of it.

All? No. Surely not. But how much?

How. Much?

.

He had been slipping away during the days recently. Disappearing for chunks of time. Hanna had just thought the slow life of Sorgan was wearing thin for him. Too many people and not enough to do.

She had begun to mentally prepare herself for leaving. They'd never planned for this to be permanent. She's always been well aware of that.

But she had never entertained the idea that he was preparing to leave alone. Solitary once more.

Because he's in no position to start over, is he? He doesn't know where his people are, but he needs to find them. He has duties and relationships. While Hanna's world has shrunk over the past year, his hasn't. If anything, his has grown, she supposes.

And now he's found that he can't accommodate it.

.

Loneliness makes her chest feel tight. Even though it's silly. She's not alone in this village.

Abandonment.

That's what it is. The panic of being left. She'd worried about it before, but the dread is tenfold now. Now that things have changed.

They've ...haven't they been _doing_ something here?

Something that felt big. Significant.

That's all changing. She's being left. And she doesn't have any choice.

_Again_.

.

The thing is ...she knows she will be alright. She has done this all before. Has started over. Built a life from scratch. But she doesn't _want_ to.

Even if she knows she can get through the change, it stings that it's outside of her control. Eats her. Boils something in her gut.

She hadn't been asked.

.

Her heart is racing like she's in danger. She's a little worried about that until the kid makes a production of trying to climb up her shirt and utterly failing.

She had come inside after bickering with Cara, who was of the opinion that Hanna should storm after the Mandalorian and create a scene - Cara had even offered to hold the kid for her. Hanna had plopped down on her cot and proceeded to forget all about the kid needing a bath and a nap.

Now he's fussy and the thigh of her leggings is wet from him being seated there. Awesome.

"Hi..." she gathers him off of her lap and stands to wipe him off and get him dry clothes for now. He can clean up properly later.

As she changes him, she has a feeling that he knows what he'd heard. Or maybe she's just letting him feed of of her nervous energy by accident.

.

"Come on..."

Though she doesn't think she'll sleep, she returns to her cot and lays down with the kid. Lays him on her blanket and curls around him.

She forcibly ignores the thought of the Mandalorian sitting on the edge edge of the bed that morning after depositing the kid into her hands. He had _things to do_, he'd said. Still, he'd lingered there. Just sitting and tracing her side while she did battle with the kid, who was trying to restle custody of her pillow from her.

Then he'd left. Slipped away as quiet as ever.

Had he wanted to tell her even then? Only he'd bailed. Maybe had decided to practice his reasons on Cara first.

_Soon_.

That could mean anything. It hadn't been a fair timeline to give. .

Not that she'd been _meant_ to hear...

.

With her rumbling, roiling thoughts it's a wonder she falls asleep at all.

.

She wakes to gentle pressure on her face. It makes her flinch away into her pillow. But once she wakes up a little more, she realizes the sensation is fingers brushing through her hair.

There's really only one person that could be. She grins. Turns to look up and finds the Mandalorian bent over the bed.

The smile lingers until her memory seeps back into place.

"Hi," she lets the smile drop and looks down to the kid, who is clutched to her chest but still fast asleep.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"No...I mean yeah," she squeezes her eyes shut tight to center herself before looking back up again. "Just tired."

"I can take him..."

"No. You don't need to."

"...you're sure you're alright?"

Hanna nods and rolls onto her back.

She is sure she isn't convincing. She would _like_ to scoff at him. To say something biting. Only she's not sure what to say.

So she lies.

He watches her a little longer. His face, such as it is, is the same one she's been staring into all this time. Nothing has changed there. Not ever.

But she _feels_ different. She is sure that things have, in fact, changed. He's changed toward her. That is true. He's opened up to her. To this place. To the kid - he's sharing his culture with the little guy, for maker's sake.

This isn't nothing. She's not crazy.

'_These events are now forgotten_.' That's what the Client had said.

He's trying to do it again.

Running.

"Okay."

He accepts her assurance, yet she's not so sure he believes her. He is smarter than that, but he's not a pusher when it comes to talking.

"I'm going hunting"

"Alright. Be ...safe."

He nods.

She thinks again to say something. _Do it now._

But she lets him leave.

.

Hanna stares at the ceiling. Wondering. Imagining. Deciding what she wants to say.

She's not sure how long she can sit on this without going utterly mad.

.

.

.

"Are you going to fight him?" Cara has joined her on the porch that evening.

Hanna snorts.

To be sure, she has imagined a dozen ways to confront the Mandalorian. Exactly zero of those scenarios have involved physical assault.

"In what world is that a good idea?"

"I dunno," Cara's shrug is lazy. Careless. "_I'd_ do it."

"I'm sure," Hanna smiles despite herself because she can absolutely imagine it.

"What _are_ you gonna do?"

"No idea"

"...could chain yourself to his ship."

All of Cara's suggestions are surprisingly dramatic. Then again, Hanna can't picture that she's often in the position of others trying to force their will upon her.

Just Hanna.

Her chest aches at this particular thought.

"I can't talk him into something he doesn't want..."

The words ring false to her even as she says them. She knows deep in her mind that it's probably not _want_ so much as ...as some sense of duty. Even fear, maybe. Denial. Doubt.

But it's easier to be mad if she imagines that he has lied to her all this time. That he hadn't cared at all. Anger feels better than being sad. Or scared.

"You are both _real_ dumb"

Unfair. It's not like there's an instruction manual for ...for all of this.

Hanna watches the kid inspect his crib and blanket. He probably wonders why his things are outside at all. But he's not being evicted. Yet. He has been invited by Millie and Winta and Jovanna to camp out under the stars with them. Nadette has plans to make a fire, and they'll find constellations and learn the fables of their galaxy until they fall asleep.

Hanna has decided that it's opportune for him to be gone if she wants to tell the Mandalorian she's heard about his plans. If she can just figure out _how_.

"Thanks," she drawls with a scowl. "I appreciate that..."

"Hey," Cara's broad shoulders shrug. "I'll always tell you the truth."

Hanna nods. Believes this.

"...what will you do? When he goes, I mean," Hanna asks and doesn't miss that the kid looks up at this. Quietly understands her words. Or senses her mood. His usual amalgamation of both.

"Well. What he does has no bearing on what I do, so..."

Hanna understands that this is technically true; Cara will do as she pleases. Yet they _are_ friends. They'd come here together. Are something of a team. Maybe she would want to leave if he wasn't securely holed-down here, too.

Mostly Hanna just wants to hear that she'll stay.

"I get that. But were you ever planning on making this _home_?"

"Forever? I guess not," Cara denies. "But for a while longer ...I feel like I've earned it, you know?" she pauses and Hanna nods definitive agreement. "It's quiet, and I don't gotta watch my back. I like that. But I'm not sure if I'm cut out for it forever, no. I'll get the itch for something else.

"Like him..."

Cara frowns. Shrugs.

"Not really. When I go it'll be because I'm ready to. _He's_ all twisted," she taps at her own temple.

"Hmm..."

"Maybe that happens when you become an overnight dad"

"Yeah ... ..."

.

Like a magnet, her eyes find the Mandalorian as soon as he re-enters the village. The glint of beskar draws her attention to him dragging downed game behind him. He's making a line toward the mess hut where Felix will surely make quick work of skinning it to hang and butcher.

"Guess he's not the only one twisted up," she can _feel _Cara's eyes on her.

"I just ..."

She can't get into it now. How she feels about him. How much she trusts him. How that's all being cracked. How out of control it feels.

"Hanna," she looks round at Cara's now gruff tone. "You'll be fine."

"...I know."

Because she does. She hasn't forgotten that. Despite the jumpy, spiky feelings in her chest, she knows she's resilient. Objectively, this is not the worst thing.

But she'd been craving connection; had been missing it more than she'd admitted to herself. She'd found it, and now...

"Alright, good. I'm gonna get lost. Good luck with ...things. But you can come crash at mine if you need."

.

Cara leaves Hanna to amuse the kid while they wait for Winta.

They play peek-a-boo since all they have out here are blankets.

Despite his tendencies and his near-precognition at times, he can't seem to figure out this game. He finds endless amusement in it and giggles like mad. So she's probably playing as much for him as she is for herself.

Eventually he is so delighted that he dashes forward into her arms. She scoops him up into the air, tossing him before catching and depositing him back into her lap. If possible, he's laughing louder. Hanna isn't sure if it's wearing him out of helping get him keyed-up enough that he won't want to settle for the girls. True that his sleep isn't supposed to be her problem tonight, but the girls could always return him...

It would be worth it.

Hanna knows it while she gazes down at his toothy smile. She feels suddenly emotional by how sure she is, but she pushes it away so as not to sully his mood.

.

"What's all this?"

The Mandalorian has neared while they played. He's more than close enough to see the crib and its accessories.

"Nadette and Omera are camping out with some of the kids ...they've invited him."

"Oh..." he sounds surprised. A little unsure.

"Is that okay? Should he stay here?" Hanna narrows her eyes at him, feeling jumpy again.

"No. It's alright."

_Is it, though?_

"We can keep him here ...if it's going to be your last night or something..."

It just pops out with her worry.

But she realizes at once that she doesn't regret it. It's best that way, maybe. To just spit it out into the open. She isn't sure how to follow-up, but at least they both know that they both know.

The Mandalorian doesn't move for a few long seconds.

"Cara told you..."

She wonders how that betrayal sits for him, but she doesn't let it last.

"No... ...I heard it," her heart is hammering. "I was coming back in from the lake."

He gazes around the porch as if trying to figure out how he hadn't known. Hadn't noticed.

When he moves, Hanna half expects him to stomp off the porch. Instead he disappears inside. For a wild moment she pictures him packing his things _right now_, but it's not as though he can get back out of their without her seeing.

So she waits for the girls and tries to plan out what she'll say.

Only her mind is moving too fast. She has the advantage of knowing some of his arguments, but she still can't quite guess how the conversation will go. Can't figure out how she'll change his plans.

He is such an immovable force in her mind.

Though that isn't entirely true. She recognizes that she's gotten behind his walls more than most. There is a power in that ...but how to wield it? She doesn't know how she'd done it in the first place. Not really. She hadn't sat down to plan anything.

So ...what now?

.

When the girls come to claim the kiddo and his things, it is getting dark and they are in a hurry. Hanna almost doesn't want the to go. Isn't ready to go inside.

Once she is standing outside the door she realizes that it's been quite a long time since she's been _this_ unsure of him. So nervous to be in his presence.

A ripple of gloom shudders through her.

She doesn't know what's waiting for her inside, but she pushes through the door anyway. She finds an unremarkable scene. He's sitting on the edge of his cot. Vambraces and gloves set aside. His hands clasped together in a loose way, his elbows resting on his knees.

She thinks of the other nights he's sat right there. She would join him. They would talk. Or fuss with the kid together. Like it was normal. Like it was going to last.

.

Hanna knows an invitation when she sees one.

And what if she doesn't want to join him? What if she wants to be angry? She _is_ angry, isn't she? She is. She's hurt. Offended. Even embarrassed, maybe - like she's the idiot here.

And yet she's surprised to find she is comforted by the routine he's offering. It calms somethings that's started to ferment in her gut.

So she doesn't back away. She sits herself beside him.

She leaves more room between them than normal, though. To make a point, she supposes.

.

They sit. And wait.

Maybe she ought to break the silence. To jump into exactly how she feels before he gets a chance to lay out whatever logic he has crafted.

But her lips stay shut.

She's gotten them this far. Has opened the conversation he clearly couldn't. Now it's his turn. If he's gone and made the decision, he can at least put words to it. Right or wrong, she feels she's owed that much.

"Go ahead. You can be mad."

Oh, can she now? He's going to speak first but still try to shove her into the position of leading? She isn't going to quite take up that challenge.

"...is that what you want?"

It's what _she'd_ wanted. Anger had felt so simple, but now she finds she just feels ...small. Already burnt out, somehow.

"...maybe."

Right. He's made a living off of dealing with angry. Off of fighting. He knows how to do that.

"That isn't a helpful answer," she stares straight at her hands.

He sighs.

"... ...fine. How much did you hear?"

More than she'd wanted.

"Everything, I think. I heard enough ... ...that we're an obligation..."

In her peripheral, she sees his head jerk in her direction.

"I didn't mean that. That was for Cara," he rasps like it's important. Like it matters either way, which ..._maybe_. "You know better than that."

Her chest does a thing it's best to ignore.

"...it would be easier if you did mean it."

"Yes," he agrees. "But I hardly think you'd rather sit here with a lie..."

.

Truth be told, Hanna hadn't expected this. He'd been blunt and pushy with Cara. She thought she'd get strong-armed by him, too. But now it's like he doesn't know exactly what his strategy is either.

"I..." she just blows out a breath, unsure where to start. Unsure how much to say.

"You'll be... fine. Here. Without me," his statement is stunted, if firm.

Yes, everyone seems to know so. But the fact is beside the point. And, anyway:

"You don't know that"

Resiliency aside, anything could happen. The things he's worried about _out there_ could happen here. No one can pretend to know otherwise.

"I have to believe that. That there's some option better than roping you into my life..."

Hanna squirms.

"It's not like we've come kicking and screaming..."

"You haven't had much choice," he points out and she bristles, finally turning to look at him. "I don't mean-"

"_This_ is the decision I don't have a choice in," Hanna snaps. "_You're _the one making it that way..."

Sure she hadn't _chosen_ zipping across the universe in the Razor Crest. Or Sorgan. Or Gandle Ott before that. But that was by deferral, not force. What she _truly_ hadn't chosen was everything that came before that. Before him.

The Mandalorian stiffens, too, now that roughness and blame are out on the table.

"Is there somewhere else you'd like me to drop you off?" he deadpans.

Like an asshole.

She looks away.

"You know that's not what I mean."

He can try to make it about that if he wants. To pretend the problem is the literal, physical place she's being left. She's not going to buy in.

.

They fall quiet again.

Hanna's mood drops further along with the dimming horizon, and she condescends to cut the silence short this time.

"...is there anything I can say that would change your mind?"

"No"

And yet that's not the tone he usually speaks so surely in. It's pinched. Forced.

"...alright. I didn't know we were that much of a burden to you," she baits him, instead.

"Stop fishing," he calls her out, as per. He does go on, though. "I'm not worried about myself."

"...aren't you?" she turns to squint at him. Has to glare into his inscrutable visor.

They both merely stare.

To her bafflement, he is the one to break first. Sighs. Drops the rigidity in his shoulders.

"What do you want from me, Hanna?"

_Uh_. Not this. That should be clear.

"What am I supposed to do?" his ask sounds rhetorical. "This ...isn't for me. I didn't earn any of this..."

Earn.

"That's not how it works..."

"...I don't _know_ how it works," he's blunt and the admittance is ...striking. "My life isn't fit for a kid - I do know that. It wouldn't be fair. And I know you won't leave him; I wouldn't even ask it..."

"You're right, b-"

"I know you deserve more than getting hauled around the galaxies while I do what _I_ need to do. You'd be in danger ...and I can't have that..."

She lets that register and wishes it grated her mind more than it does.

"I ...just thought we had...or we were-" she frowns at herself.

"I know. And you're right."

All she sees is his visor, of course, but she feels him staring straight into her. Through her and her fumbling words.

Damn him.

"...but I can't offer you anything like this. You can live a real life here with him. One I don't bring pain and blood into."

_This_ old debate.

"You think about that all wrong," she finally finds strength for her words again. "Why can't you see what you've done _for_ us? What you've _saved_ us from?"

"Because it's nothing compared to what you'-"

"No one made you do it," she insists because, yeah. _No._ It's clear he hadn't been off straightening his head. Not properly, anyway. "You did more than you had to on Arvala. Did everything you _shouldn_'_t_ have on Navarro. You could've ditched us on Gandle Ott because, hey, you'd already gotten us out of the bind you felt guilty over, right?"

"Stop," his voice bites just enough that she does as he says. "You're picking and choosing. _This_ is my life. Raiders. Walkers Hunters. That's what I do."

Okay. Maybe that's true.

"Word gets around eventually. It always does." he continues. "...I can't stay here. And you finally have a chance to have the life you deserve to have. Just ..." he pauses, tuts, then takes a deep breath. "Just let me give you that."

_Maker._

The air in Hanna's lungs freezes.

She is not supposed to let him make this sound _right. _Or good. She already knows he thinks he's doing the noble thing here. She's not supposed to believe it, too.

So she takes pause to look for her argument.

.

"You're not supposed to decide what I should have..."

It sounds flat to her own ears. She misses a city life, sometimes, but she hasn't hidden that she likes it here. That she thinks it's beautiful. Or how much she loves the little tribe the kid gets to have.

"...I'm not sure _what_ I'm supposed to do next."

That's a chink in his armor, so to speak. An admittance he hasn't made a decision, yet. Not really.

But she suddenly doesn't know how to argue with what he's just said. How to make him feel wrong for trying to be selfless. She sees his reasons. They are clear-cut and credible.

They're also not the whole picture. The fact that he gives a shit about her safety over his wants is proof of that.

"Something _else_," she suggests non-specifically. "Something where you're not the martyr..."

"I can't stay," he repeats. "You can't go. That doesn't add up square."

"Well. It's not actually a matter of _can't_..."

"What, then? You want to be the martyr? You and the kid?" he challenges.

'_You'd be in danger. I can't have that._'

Maybe she's asking too much.

Maybe she's the selfish one now.

Maybe there's just no real right and wrong.

"No," she rests her eyes and drops her head to think. "No, I don't want that. I want ..." she pauses to think. What does she want? There's no harm in saying it now. "...to get what I want, I guess," she chuckles at herself without real humor. "Finally."

And, yeah. That's not amusing.

She peeks over to see the Mandalorian nodding. Not telling her she's childish. Or stupid.

"Cara's right" she straightens herself up. "...you're a dick. For being unilateral about it"

There's not real heat to her words in the face of his reasons and apparent regard. She'll be spiteful again soon, she thinks. But resignation feels like a relief for the moment.

"...yeah."

.

They sit in that for a few moments.

"Is this ...easy for you?"

He looks away, too, and speaks to the wall.

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Well. I'm asking..."

The conversation is so familiar it hurts.

"No. It's not easy."

Hanna nods. She takes a moment to rewind through the conversation and highlights the flaws in it. All to be revisited and rehashed later.

.

For now, for a second, she wants to hold onto his "_I'm not sure what to do."_ To be optimistic for the first time this evening. To focus on the possibility that, no, he hasn't chosen yet.

Even though it feels a lot like he has.

"...you didn't talk to me about it first," her voice is soft but still accusing.

"Well. You weren't supposed to overhear it like that...like it was some order," the Mandalorian shifts his weight. "I was going to talk to you ...when I decided how."

That only makes her feel better by a slim fraction.

"But with your mind already made up..."

"Yes"

'_You could chain yourself to his ship'_

Sure. But no.

She wants him to _want_ to figure out how to make this work past Sorgan. To see if their weird little family makes sense in the rest of the world. If he doesn't want it, if he doesn't think he's worth it...then what is she supposed to do? She can't force him to try.

Maybe she shouldn't even want to.

If everything is like says, then maybe she's being unreasonable. Unrealistic.

Or...

Her chin trembles and she looks to the opposite wall so as not to be spotted if she starts crying. Out of sadness...or fear...or anything. Things have changed, but she still doesn't want to show that weakness in front of him. Not _now_, certainly.

He tries to grab for her chin and turn her back around, but she brushes him away.

"Hanna..."

He goes for it a second time only to get rebuffed again.

The Mandalorian signs and curls a hand around the back of her neck so he can tug and tuck her head against his collar. The position isn't comfortable, exactly, but it's not painful. He keeps his hand on the back of her neck as a steady weight but doesn't try to direct her back up. Maybe he understands it's not fair to try to make her reveal unfiltered emotions when she doesn't want to. Or maybe he doesn't want to see tears as much as she doesn't want to show them.

The proximity makes the ache in her chest a little worse, though it also somehow calms her.

She doesn't cry.

Just breaths him in, the scent of him now familiar.

"...when are you going to go?"

"Soon," his schedule is still vague.

"... ...what if we need you?"

Pathetic? Maybe.

Of genuine concern? Yes.

"You won't"

Hanna swallows thickly on that one. Maybe she shouldn't ask any more questions. They all hurt.

.

When she crawls into his lap, it's not a trick. She's not trying to manipulate him. She only wants to be there. To feel him for a while.

The Mandalorian welcomes her. Grabs at her back. Fist his shirt in his hands when she drops her forehead onto his.

"...can I?" her hands curl over the top of his cuirass and tug at it.

She's never undone it herself, but she's seen him do it. She's confident she can copy the process.

"Yes"

Her fingers are swift before he can change his mind an decide this is a bad idea in light of everything they've only just talked about. She pulls the buckles open at his sides. Then undoes one of the clasps on his shoulder and lifts the plating away by the other shoulder strap.

She sets it aside without the reverence he would probably prefer, but she apologizes by moving in close and wrapping herself around him. Pressing herself into the heat of his body.

It's sort of sad, the way they clench onto each other. A little desperate. Some other frantic thing she doesn't stop to think about. She just clings to his shoulders. Yanks at the thick fabric of his shirt like she could possibly get closer.

She frees a hand to slide around his neck. Traces up towards his jaw for his pulse to find it racing.

Good.

She pulls both hands up to cup either side of his helmet.

"What if..." she taps her finger lightly on the beskar. "What if I promised to keep my eyes closed?"

He'd done it the one night. Come to her bed without his helmet on. To talk and to sleep, granted, but there's no point in not asking, now. No harm can come from it.

The air freezes around them for a few moments, anyway. Her hearing feels fuzzy with excitement, and she's not confident she hears his answer right.

.

He's tying a homemade blindfold around her face minutes later.

He'd stood her up and unsheathed a knife to cut a long strip from the thin bedding after saying "yes." It's looped twice around her head, now. Despite the dark. Despite her closed eyes.

"No trust?" she teases while he secures a knot.

Less to be funny and more to release the pressure on her nerves. To dissipate it somehow. She'd asked for this but doubts, now, that she had expected him to agree.

"I do trust you"

Yeah. She gets that. He doesn't trust anyone else with this, but there's still only so much of a concession he can make.

"It feels ...kind of weird," she is oddly nervous when his hands fall away.

For someone who's already had sex with him multiple times, she's surprised to feel awkward standing before him.

She raises a hand, and he meets her fingertips with a brush of his own. That helps.

"I _am_ being selfish now," he slips his hand up into hers. "I'm stealing something from you," he flattens his other hand over her temple and fingers the blindfold.

"It's not stealing if I agreed," she's finding out how important semantics are with him.

"...you can tell me to stop."

"Not gonna happen"

Not a chance. If he's going to give, then she's taking everything she can while she can.

"Alright..."

He steps away, and the rustling that follows means he's stripping off armor and other layers. It's not a rapid process. She knows that, so she makes herself useful by undoing her own pants.

"No," a warm hand wraps around her wrist, but she's more startled by how smooth his voice sounds. She hadn't realized he'd already lifted off his helmet. "I'll do that..."

She nods.

Then she only has to stand by and wait. Which is a little awkward, not to mention unfortunate. She should have stripped all of his non-helmet clothing while she still had her eyes to use.

She'd been too surprised to plan properly.

Anyway, imagining what his face looks like distracts her from the discomfort of waiting. She'll feel it for the first time, and though she realizes that won't translate into a clear picture for her mind ...she'll _know_ things. She'll -

She twitches, startled, when a hand cups around her hip. Either she'd been thinking too hard or he'd come close again without a sound.

Both, maybe.

"Sorry," the hand disappears which, well, doesn't exactly help.

"It's alright..."

She reaches out until her hand flattens against his abdomen. The firm muscle under smooth skin, while tantalizing, is a sight and feel she already knows. She skims her hand up. Over his chest. Along his throat. To his chin.

He snatches her hand away. Holds it off of him.

And places an openmouthed kiss to her palm. Just like she's done to him ...how many times, now?

It doesn't matter.

She reaches for him again, but he uses his grip on her arm to turn her around. Backs her up until her legs bump his cot so he can press her shoulders to sit her down. His hands graze down her arms and along her legs to her knees before he shifts his weight, and his hands are on her shoes next. Untying them. Sliding them off.

It's ...intimate. But not what she'd wanted.

Surely he must know that.

Blindly reaching out, she's met with hair. He stops moving but doesn't brush her away, so she squeezes her finger into it and finds that his hair is longer than she would have guessed. Shaggy. When she lightens her touch she finds that it's ...curly. Wavy, rather.

She smiles, a little charmed. Without proof, she'd expected something cropped and militaristic.

He's still not stopping her so she presses both hands into his hair. Finally feels along the side of his face, over his ears and cheeks and jaw, where she finds stubble. His chin is scattered with it, too.

She passes a hand over his forehead. There's a crease between his brows, and _that_ is not surprising. She rubs a finger lightly at the furrow before tracing a thick nose. She's delicate around his eyes. Feels the tiny creases around their corners.

Older than her, he'd said. Not _old_, though. A hard life, then. Enough worry. He'd also confirmed that her easy guesses about his eyes and hair would be correct, so brown eyes must be watching her blindly feel him out. Hanna's eyes dart around behind the blindfold like they'll actually be able to confirm it.

"Have ...you ever kissed someone before?"

She needs to ask. Finds she enjoys the idea of knowing she is definitely his first _something_, that he wouldn't be able to forget that. Because, yeah, maybe part of her is feeling insecure and self-deprecating, and that tiny part of her won't believe that he won't forget all of this. Won't believe that she already _is_ his first something. Believes, instead, that he's going to be able to leave and not look back.

"...no."

Hanna cups both hands around his cheeks and eases forward...

Only for him to duck aside and attach his mouth to her throat. He sucks gently before licking his way to her neck. Searches his way to the juncture at her collar so he can scrape his teeth there.

Much as she's done to him. _Maker_, but he's observant. Is mimicking as though his mouth has always been free to do this.

"Do you ...not want to?" Hanna sighs but squeezes onto his shoulders to get back to the point.

He grunts and mouthes up the side of her neck to rest his forehead against her temple.

"I do want to..."

His lips brush the shell of her ear, and his warm breath ghosts over the skin in a way that sends a shiver from her shoulders straight to the base of her spine.

Before she can turn and give him what he wants, his fingers curl into the bottom of her shirt so he can strip it off. The fabric gets in her way. Then he's mouthing hot at her neck again and wrapping his arms around her to get her bra off.

Then he can kiss her sternum. Nuzzle the side of her breast. Nip at her navel while he shoves her pants open and wiggles them down with her help. He bites at her hip along the way, then sucks a kiss onto her thigh. Not with any real agenda except to enjoy skin in a way he'd been deprived off.

It's novel to feel him do so. Jarring, almost.

But she's not complaining.

_Much_.

"C'mon," she groans and cups his face again to tug him towards her.

Finally - though it's hardly been minutes - he lets her.

.

The kiss is sloppy. Unsure. He's only had practice on more static flesh.

But he relaxes after a few moments. Becomes more pliant. Slows and follows Hanna. She pushes both hands into his hair, so he mirrors that, too.

And almost dislodges the blindfold.

.

Hanna tenses and slams her eyes shut.

"Fuck..." he rights it and pets his hands more lightly over her hair. "Sorry...sorry..."

He's panting, which Hanna delights in.

"Uh-huh..." she dives forward again.

She curls her fingers back into his hair and finds that he'll groan sinfully if she tugs at it. A fact she abuses until his arm curls around her torso so he can finally rise off the ground and lift her to move her up the bed.

He presses her to the thin mattress with his weight. Continues to explore with his mouth in a frenetic, un-paced way until she's breathing hard, too.

At that point she pulls him back to her and he's urging her to curl her legs around his waist. When her ankles lock together behind him, he guides himself into her. Molds his mouth to hers when the thrust shoves a moan out of her. He swallows it whole.

Then he stills. Presses his forehead to hers.

"Hanna... ..."

"Don't," she shakes her head against his a little.

He lifts his face from hers. Is studying her, she's sure. Only she can't tell. She's not even sure she wants to know.

"I'm..."

"You don't have to..."

In fact, she doesn't _want_ him to. Any perfect things he says now ...it doesn't count. If it doesn't change how things are going to play out, she doesn't need to hear it. And he doesn't need to battle himself over the words.

She pulls his face back to hers. Squeezes her legs around him to compel him into action. He groans in response.

"_Ner ceta_..."

"What?" Hanna's sure she misheard before processing the utterance as Mando'_a_. "What's that?"

"It's ...nothing... ..."

He sinks onto his elbows to bury his face into her neck and indulge in her skin while he resumes thrusting into her.

Hanna can't see him, of course, but she can feel him. She can feel everything. His tongue. The forceful fullness of him inside her. His breath washing over her skin perhaps the most sensual part of all.

And it's enough.

More than enough.

They take their time. She knows why but refuses to think about it. The reasons will mater again _after_. Later. Not right now.

.

.

He is spooned up behind her on his cot once they finish. He'd rearranged them and shoved off her blindfold as soon as his breathing had evened out. Now his head is tucked behind her like before.

Though this time he's pushed her hair out of the way. Is kissing or licking at the back of her neck from time to time.

And Hanna's quiet.

Thinking. Daydreaming a little. Trying not to dwell on those reasons again. Trying to ignore that this last tryst together might have been a very bad idea. Maybe it had been meant as a good-bye, but it might actually make things harder.

Now that she knows what his tongue tastes like. What is sounds like to hear him groan her name without a mask on. How his breath feels.

Yeah. This could've made things more difficult...

"Din"

"Hmm?"

"Din Djarin"

Ah. More Mando'a, she realizes.

"Wh-"

"That's my name"

Hanna's eyes snap open from their lazy doze.

"Don't..."

Don't _what_? It's too late.

She shifts where she lays. Of course she's not going to turn around, but she feels strangely like she shouldn't be there.

He holds fast to her so she can't bolt.

"Only Mandalorians know to speak that name," he goes on levelly, his voice smooth and his breath tickling her ear in an unfair way. "If you need me, start saying it. If you ever have to run away from here, say it to everyone. I'll get wind of it and come after you."

"That couldn't even-"

"You'd be surprised," he stops her protests. "News travels fast in certain circles. Certain topics."

_His_ circles.

"Do you understand?"

Hanna nods.

"Say it"

"Yeah. Yeah... I understand."

"No. _Say it_. Please"

Oh.

And what if she doesn't want to? How would that be? Maybe it's too late for that. Once upon a time she had wanted to know it, but now...

That's a lie.

She wants to say it.

"Din..."

She isn't sure that it fits. She is so used to him just being ..._him_.

But he exhales slowly and tightens his arm around her. She feels him kiss her crown.

Well...

_Well_.

"Say it and I'll come find you."

She nods but stays quiet.

She's sure there's nothing to say to that.

"...you haven't asked about it in a while. My name..." he nuzzles his face into her hair.

"I think..." Hanna chews on her lip. Doesn't want to be ungrateful that he's shared. "I guess I stopped caring. Back when you first wouldn't tell me, I felt kind of like I needed to know your name in order to know you. Then, you know, it just turned into a game ...and one day it wasn't important anymore. Not really..."

.

But she knows it, now.

He's said his piece.

And she can't help but feel sure that it means he's made his choice. That his mind is decided.

He's leaving.

.

She lets a few tears fall away since he can't see her.


	20. Chapter's End

_**Boop. And there's two chapters in one night as promised. Enjoy :)**_

**Chapter 20: ****Chapter's End**

_..._

"_Mama, what are you doing?"_

_But the kitchen was small. Hanna could see precisely what her mom was doing. Standing at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables as if she hadn't been on her feet all day. As if she wasn't supposed to be resting._

_Hanna didn't receive an answer, and she wasn't surprised._

_Adelia was far from pleased with her, and they had argued more in the past few days than they had in ...well, a long while. They were so often on the same page - working together. But now Hanna had gone against her mother. It was unprecedented and bold of her. Defiant, even._

"_I told you I would be right back down ...go sit," Hanna moved through the room to usher her mom aside._

_To the table, at least. If she was lucky, the woman would go to the sitting room to properly relax._

"_Oh? I can't even cook in my own home?" the woman stayed right where she was, turning narrowed eyes upon Hanna._

_Again: not surprising. Her mom wasn't better, but she was hurt._

_Earlier there had been tears; now there was actual anger._

"_You're tired," she insisted. "You should rest."_

_Adelia was always tired these days. Even when she didn't work all day, her energy was lacking. When she did work, Hanna sometimes had to help her down the hall to get to bed and had brought her dinner there more than once in the past weeks alone._

"_I'll do as I please," her mom shooed her off._

_Hanna caught one of her work-weathered hands in her own. Squeezed it._

"_Mom please. You're worn out."_

_Indeed. Her mother's dark, straight hair fell limp around her face. There were bags under her eyes that were emphasized by skin a hue paler than normal._

_Adelia Imbar wasn't alright._

_She was proud, though._

"_I'll make you dinner if I want," she pulled her hand away and waved Hanna of once again, demanding __**she**_ _sit and mind her own business._

_So Hanna did. She sat at the table, still close by so she could keep an eye out._

"_You're breaking all of the rules, baby," her mother spoke after lengthy pause._

_Hanna sighed. She had not broken a single rule regarding indentured servitude; she had done some research, in fact. But she knew that wasn't what her mom meant, so she let the older woman go on with full knowledge that nothing could be done to change the tide of this._

"_I'm your mother. Children don't do this. It's my job to take care of you..."_

_Hanna wanted to point out she wasn't a child and so no longer needed to be provided for, but she opted not to start that fight. _

"_You finished school. You are happy. You're supposed to be happy and free and go live your life," she went on, still facing away towards the counter but speaking with a choked voice. "Now you messed it all up like some silly girl. You're not a silly girl."_

_Silly? Hardly. She'd thought long and hard._

"_Go live my life?"_

"_Yes," Adelia emphasized with a unnecessarily harsh chop against the cutting board ._

"_How can I do that?" Hanna had already decided __**her**_ _answer to that. "How do I go live my life and be happy when you're falling apart for that damn contract? Every week you're more and more tired ...do you want to fall down dead in that overheated factory?"_

_Because contracted servants didn't get leeway. Didn't get sick time or empathy when they were hurt or unwell. No. Avik Tan, her boss, hadn't cared when Adelia got sick. He hardly knew her name. However, he had jumped at the chance for Hannah - younger and fitter - to take her place and put herself in his debt instead. Profit before all._

"_It's not right to go behind my back," Adelia didn't touch the fact that, no, she had not been doing well._

"_...I've already signed the contract," Hanna's reminder was soft but factual. "You can be bad but it doesn't change things. You never have to go back there."_

_Her mom's slim shoulders slumped, and her sigh was slow._

"_This wasn't the plan, Hanna..."_

_Yeah. They'd had a lot of plans over the years. Had talked about trips they both knew they wouldn't be able to take. Had read books and imagined the many worlds they would like to see. Adelia remembered places she'd enjoyed traveling to when she was younger and had been gracious enough to fill Hanna's head with stories. _

_But they always needed to return to real life._

_Hanna had known their reality a long time, now. She was young, not naive._

"_I know," Hanna signed, too, and she rose to go stand with her mom. Not to take over, this time, but to just __**be**_ _with her. "But you've bent over backward for us long enough. Let me give you this..."_

...

.

Hanna sighs and stills her hands on her latest weaving project.

She has been ruminating on this memory a lot. Her surety verses her mother's wishes.

Of course ...Hanna's plans had not panned-out either, had they? Her mom had started doing better, and that had been delightful. Worth it. Then Hanna had been sold-off to Baevis and made to uproot for Castillion - a move her mom couldn't afford to make even if the relocation had been practical.

Being alone hadn't been the plan ...

.

And now here she is.

.

Her attention is drawn from her musing by a soft snuffle near her lap.

With a sigh, she pulls back the edge of the sling to peer down at the kid. As soon as light filters in, he snaps his eyes shut.

Like he think's he's sly.

"You're not tricking me, buddy," she smirks and pulls the canvas open further.

Not only is his wide gaze a hard one to hide, but she has felt him puttering and heard him muttering nonsensically for the past half hour or so. She'd hoped the dark and quiet would lull him into some extra sleep, but clearly that was a pipe dream.

He probably thinks he's going to get chastised for not taking the lead.

On a normal day, he might be be correct.

But the past couple days haven't exactly been normal, and Hanna is afraid she might be the reason the kiddo is short on sleep. The teetering anxiety sitting in Hanna's gut like a heavy knot has rubbed off on him; she's sure of it.

So it's not his fault.

"Come on," she coaxes him out.

Slowly he stands and stretches his arms up for a proper cuddle.

Hanna cradles him against her chest, where he continues to squirm a little. He's not begging to be put on his feet right away, so she sways with him gently. She feels at a loss for the moment but is encouraged by the soft smile Omera sends her for her efforts. It's been nice getting some motherly advice and approval here in the village - _it's reassuring and_ _one of the many things here she's thankful for._

She stands to pace around and tries to think of fun, peaceful things to clear her mind and hopefully his, too. Remembers the contentment of watching him chase tadpoles. Sitting out front with Cara and the Mandalorian around a little bonfire. Of stargazing.

This cheers her up some; she has to hope the little guy feels it.

.

He doesn't nap, so she lets him find distraction.

He had shown interested when Winta invited him to play, and Hanna allowed it in hopes that the other children would raise his spirits. She'll deal with the inevitable crankiness later; that's a small price for him to enjoy himself a while.

So she continues her weaving practice while maintaining a cursory eye on the children.

"How long ago did you adopt him?" Omera catches her pausing to watch.

Hanna starts. Not because it's a bizarre question. It's natural, really, but no one has seemed concerned before now. She'd assumed the ask would never come.

"Oh...a little over a year now"

She wishes she could be more precise about it, for herself if not for Omera. But cycles aren't the same on every planet and, anyway, she hasn't kept a calendar on-hand. Still, it would be nice to celebrate anniversaries. Or would that be morbid in some way? They hadn't come together by happy circumstances, but...she _is_ happy to have him. She should pick an anniversary.

"He's older than he looks, then..."

Hanna almost laughs out loud at that.

"A bit. Yeah."

Omera smiles. Nods along like she understands.

Sometimes Hanna forgets how strange their situation truly is.

Though maybe it's not funny...

.

She glances across several ponds towards the Mandalorian, where he is seated at an outdoor table in discussions with Felix and Nadette. About his travels, maybe. Or security after his coming departure. Plans.

Hanna has not insinuated herself into the making of them to know the details. Doesn't want to get emotional with him _and_ the other two.

"He's going off planet, I hear," Omera has followed her line of sight.

"...yeah."

"For how long?"

Hanna's already played that game. Let herself dwell on that idea. He had not explicitly stated he would never be back, but he had implied enough. More than.

She squirms.

"You'd have to ask him"

She won't; Hanna is confident in that. Omera has had several curiosities when it coms to the Mandalorian _\- Din, though she know's she's not supposed to say it _\- but, like most, still finds him daunting. To date, questioning Hanna on the topic of him is as far as Omera has gone.

"...apologies."

Hanna's being rude.

She blames the ill-manners on the gnawing feeling in her gut. The one that has been there since she'd woke up a couple mornings previous. She had feared, then, that the Mandalorian would wake, pack up, and leave without further preparation.

Now...she wonders whether it would be easier if he had.

Knowing he is leaving but still seeing him hurts. The dissonance makes her nauseas.

"Don't be. I ...we just don't really agree," she explains as best she can.

"I see..."

Unlikely.

But maybe. Omera is something of a mystery, herself.

.

Hanna returns to her dutiful disregard of what the Mandalorian is talking about over there. She could obsess too easily. He has borrowed the rickety speeder for a trip to his ship already; what else does he want from them? Or do they want something from him before he leaves? What information might they have for him?

She is going to have to ask.

She knows that.

She always does.

She'll...

Omera clears her throat in an overzealous way, and it pulls Hanna's attention from her fingers, which she still needs to watch closely as they twine reeds. She glances up and watches the older woman tilt her head toward the ponds, deciphers that for what it is, and twists around expecting to see the kiddo returning.

She finds the Mandalorian marching their way instead. She wonders if maybe Omera thought she would want to slip away and sends her silent gratitude in a smile.

But she stays where she is.

"Where's the kid?" he asks when he comes to a stop and stands over them.

"Playing," she points off to the side of Omera's home.

A handful of children are hunkered down with sticks in their hands jabbing at the dirt. Drawing, maybe. More likely engaged in one of their little puzzle games. Their little guy doesn't understand those, but he does like sharing space and laughing with the others regardless.

"Hmmm..."

He shifts his weight and hooks his thumbs into his belt. It's a casual move. A familiar one, which carves something spiky into her chest.

"Hanna, do ...can I steal you?" he glances between her and Omera.

A petty part of her wants to tell him no. A more realistic portion of her brain figures that this is goodbye. Thinks maybe she should go get the baby...

"I'll take these home and go check on them," Omera offers to excuses herself before Hanna can stretch up to her feet.

She swipes up her work - _which is much further along than Hanna's, but it's the effort that counts, okay? - _and scampers off. Entirely ignores the Mandalorian's "wait" and Hanna's insistence that they'll go, that they don't want to be rude.

.

Once they're alone, it's much quieter. Too quiet. Hanna twists the weaving in her hand and thinks of how to break the silence. They haven't talked much since the morning they'd woken up in his cot. Speaking in hushed tones, him with his helmet already back in place.

That had been nice. A last bubble of normalcy before tension and anticipation took root.

"You're getting better," he squats down beside her and trails his fingers over the sack of the basket she's constructing.

She hasn't made a ton of headway, but the weave is tight as intended instead of fumbled with loose, uneven bumps.

"Yeah, I guess ..."

His hands pull back and he clasps them together again, resting his forearms on his knees. He breathes deep; she can hear it through his helmet.

Pauses.

Waits.

"Just say it," Hanna implores him.

"Hmm?"

"...are you leaving today?" she thought she had prepared herself, but saying it bubbles alarm in her chest.

The Mandalorian grunts softly and shifts on his haunches. Pauses again.

So Hanna continues, anxiety moving her lips..

"...because if you're going to go...you _need to_ _go_." Maker, that's not what she wants but her insides have been squirming for too long. "I don't want you to _\- not without us. _I'll miss you, but..." she blinks and dares a glance at him. "...you just lingering and...and waiting? It's not fair."

"Hanna... ..."

"It hurts," she stares back down at her hands to admit this. "Seeing you like it's normal ...but it's not normal."

For a bare moment it seems like he's not going to answer at all.

"Right?"

"I -"

.

He cuts himself off when a high-pitched sound shatters across the village.

.

Hanna knows the sound of blaster fire, but doesn't compute it right away. Can't reconcile what she knows to this quaint morning.

The Mandalorian, of course, has no such lag.

He's instantaneous

Instinct propels him.

So she finds herself pressed heavily into the grass before she even realizes that he's lurching forward. His body covers hers, and she grabs him on reflex without comprehending what she needs to hide from.

.

Realization slams home in the next second, and then adrenaline is only a breath behind.

_The kids!_

Her hands squeeze into the fabric covering his arms, and then she scrambles against him. Pushes at the stiff arms that have wrapped protectively around her head despite knowing damn well she can't move him. She twists her face to the side, trying to stare into the helmet tucked just beside her.

"We have to...we have to..."

Go!

Get the kid.

See if he's alright!

_Kriff_.

He ticks his chin and raises his head to look around, though he doesn't raise his weight and let her up. Not right away. Only when he sees no apparent threat does he shift back and rise to his feet, blaster unholstered in a smooth motion she barely spots.

Hanna shoves herself to her own feet in a much less fluid manner, but her clambering is just as effective. And then she darts away.

"Hanna!" he is after her in a flurry of movement but thankfully not to stop her as she expects.

They both dash between ponds and skirt farm equipment to reach the children, who merely look flummoxed. The Mandalorian does beat her there, but he scoops the kid up by the back of his robe only to shove him straight at Hanna. Her hands are shaking, but she accepts him greedily.

He's alright. He's in one piece, looking a little startled by the manhandling but ultimately pleased to see her. For a second she'd feared ...well, the worst. Funny how she always does that with him. She should have grey hairs by now.

.

Omera is already ushering the lot into her house. She's hushing them. Telling them it will be alright, to let things get sorted.

"Go home," the Mandalorian steps in Hanna's way so she can't follow after the other children to help. "Grab a weapon."

"Yeah..." she likes that idea. Wants the security of the gun.

'_The things I do for you, kid..._'

.

Once Hanna is back to the barn, she snatches a pistol from one of the boxes now stacked neatly near the foot of the Mandalorian's bed.

Next she marches to her own side of the barn, wraps the kid in a blanket, and shoves him under her cot. Pushes a couple bins and a bag in front of him in case he tries to crawl out, as he is so wont to do. He squeaks at her a few times, but Hanna pretends this doesn't faze her.

Then she eyes the room. She considers some of the tactical talk she's been a part of _\- or, more to the point, has listened in on_ \- with Cara and the Mandalorian. What would they do?

That answer was simple: charge out into the woods to see what the kriff was going on.

_Well_. Out of the question.

Hanna posts up in the corner behind the door instead.

Then she listens.

Watches.

Waits.

.

She can't help but think of the last time she had hidden the kid like this. She'd closed him into his old bassinet and shoved him under a tarp amongst sandy, miscellaneous supplies. The same day she'd first met the Mandalorian. They'd kicked off this journey the moment he spared her life and killed the droid in that desert camp.

A couple months ago. If feels like longer. Like maybe she'd been a whole different person then. _He'd_ been a whole different person.

Maybe.

To her, at least.

_Kriff_.

This isn't the time. Now is the time to focus.

Hanna tightens her grip on the blaster and leans in towards the wall to listen for commotion outside. She tries _not_ to imagine what is out there, but can't help picturing more raiders coming back for revenge. Can't dispel the recollection of the haggard, half-dead Klatoonion who'd been reaching for the kid in the woods.

.

She's not sure how long she stands there, tense and primed for inevitable disaster. Minutes? Ages? Too long for her nerves.

.

She hears next to nothing right up until steps thud onto the porch. Then the door rattles, and she squares her shoulders.

"It's me," the Mandalorian's gloriously distinct voice announces itself before the door shakes a second time.

Hanna exhales deeply. Drops her hands. Tension leaks from the muscles in her neck and shoulders.

"Hanna?" something hits the door. Impatient.

She envisions it's the flat of his palm.

But she is being a bit rude. She shuffles forward to twist up the lock, and the door immediately swings open. The Mandalorian strides in. Sweeps his gaze through the barn.

"Where is he?" he demands.

Hanna nods to her bed, where the kid has managed to remain remarkably silent.

"I hid him."

He nods.

Pauses.

Then stomps to his corner and rips his privacy curtain from the careful rigging he's been using all this time.

"What..."

But he's paying her no mind. He's already snatching his cot so he can wrench it away from the wall hard enough that it slides across the slatted floor. Then he knocks over several stacked boxes and kicks them where they land as if he hadn't been the one to meticulously pile them there in the first place.

"Hey..." Hanna moves forward but then flinches away when he grabs the small table they've been using for weeks and weeks and throws it into the wall.

It splinters and he stares at the pieces, chest heaving. His hand clench and unclench. Like maybe it isn't decimated enough. Like he's going to grab up the chunks to snap them further.

"What's going on?" she approaches again.

She even reaches for his arm _\- which is either brave or stupid, she's not certain_ \- but he rounds on her before she can.

"Okay! What?" Hanna yanks her hand away. Her heart had calmed when he'd first returned, but it's pounding again because it's hard to rattle him yet here he is. _On edge._ "What happened?"

"A hunter."

For a split second, she can't understand him. Thinks he's being melodramatic. Can't quite consolidate the idea of someone hunting in the woods causing such a colossal overreaction.

_A. Hunter_.

As in...

.

"Wait..." she clears the lump of fear out of her throat. "What?"

"You heard me. A hunter looking for the kid...and you," his shoulders are still heaving, but he has stopped trashing his corner in the name of conversation and that, at least, is an improvement.

"But..." unease slither's down Hanna's spine; her fingers go cold. "How can you...are you..."

She doesn't quite ask. She knows, deep down, that he must be definite. That he isn't prone to hysterics. That he looks for reasons and proof and -

"I'm sure. Cara found him with a sniper rifle and _this,"_ he digs a cracked, palm-able device from his belt and throws it at her feet.

Hanna recognizes it at once. Can't pull her eyes from it. She can practically hear the faint beeping that had stalked them through the streets of Nevarro.

"Maker," she breathes and forces her eyes away from the tracking fab to stare up at him again. "So...what does this mean? What now?"

"You know what now," his anger only simmers in his voice, but it's vibrating through his body language in tense waves. "Now we leave. Pack your things.

"I..."

"Unless you'd like to sit here and wait for the next one," he sneers.

Hanna glares across the scant space between them, suddenly wanting more distance. He doesn't get to _do_ that.

"Don't get mad at me - I'm just catching up," she justifies herself. "I'm panicking, too, okay?"

"I'm not panicked," his answer is snappish and quick.

Too quick, maybe. Because the debris he's created in his swirl of outrage would wax a different story.

"Right..."

He stares back at her, his helmet blank but his gaze somehow hard. Finally, his shoulder do slump, the discussion perhaps bringing him back to himself.

"I'm not mad at you," his concession lowers Hanna's defenses, too. "I'm mad at me..."

"_Myah_..."

They both twist to watch the kid shimmy out from Hanna's bed. He's clearly freed himself of the speedy swaddle job, and he beams when he sees he has the attention of both adults. Even claps his teeny hands together to congratulate himself for gaining his freedom, like this whole ordeal had been a game.

"...they were this close to him," the icy dread won't leave Hanna's chest.

"...yes," the Mandalorian rasps. "And you."

It's not that Hanna doesn't know that or doesn't care about her own safety. It just always seems less pressing. Less real than the threat that hangs over the baby. Maybe that's a selflessness. Or maybe she just still thinks of herself as a nobody in this entire affair; can't believe what she is a part of.

So she just nods to his words and tries not to think of a sniper in the woods. Doesn't want to think of who the hunter had been taking aim at or wonder what would have happened if Cara hadn't happened upon it. Giving that more than a fleeting thought makes her want to vomit.

"...are you..."

"I'm okay," she promises, though it's a lie and he'll know it as such.

Well, she _is_ okay. They all are- thank the Maker- but she's afraid. Still silently panicking, just like she'd said.

"You need to start packing," he states plainly and with less heat than before. "I was putting it off, but we have to get our things together and go. Today."

That ...makes perfect sense. They definitely need to do that. It's not safe for them here. It's not safe for the villagers, either.

.

She looks round to him and wants to say something. Feels she should acknowledge that she knows this wasn't his plan. To ask if he's more upset or relieved. Yet she finds herself at a loss. She wonders if she's nervous to hear his answer or if she merely remains stunned by how the day has turned.

"We'll be alright," he addresses whatever worry he sees in her face.

Hanna can't be sure how much he believes that, but he is placid again. More himself, if a little perfunctory, now that he's hastily compartmentalized whatever he needs to in order to keep moving. Like he's finding solace in the routine of making plans.

Which is good. Plans are good.

She seizes onto his procedural manner and tries to calm by it, too.

.

Silence permeates the barn as they begin to pack, the Mandalorian in his corner and Hanna at the opposite wall filtering through her belongings. The kid is quiet, too, while he stands in his crib and watches. The poor guy. They owe him some light-hearted days.

The kid deserves that.

She supposes they all do.

She's ...conflicted about what's happening. She has gotten what she wanted, after all, but it has come at a price she hadn't considered.

Hanna stares at the kid who's clutching one of the knit loth-cat dolls Millie had made for him. He's completely clueless, so far as she can tell, that they aren't safe.

Again.

_Still_.

She mourns for him, in a way.

"Hanna..."

Right. She should be moving. Packing with more urgency.

He still sounds calm, his tone even inviting, but Hanna doesn't look away from the kid until the Mandalorian has crossed the barn and drawn close. Until he strokes a gloved hand through her hair. Smooths along her neck to squeeze her shoulder.

"We'll be alright," he insists a second time.

Hanna nods up at him even though she's only half sure herself.

"I know ...I know, just ...he's not safe. He deserves to be," she glances down at his wide, blinking eyes and the way he spreads a toothy grin for them. "I don't know the last time he was safe for long. I want to give him that."

It scares her how much she wants that.

And maybe. _Maybe_ she feels it for a second. That ensuring the kid's safety would've been worth the Mandalorian's plan. Worth him leaving even if. Well, even if it broke her heart a little. Because this kid could break her heart, too. If something happens to him...

"We will," Din promises. Answers the question she hadn't brought herself to ask

_They_ will.

Makes sense. She's not sure she can do it alone.

She glances up at him again even though she knows her eyes are wet.

"Sounds good..."

Sounds scary as hell. But, _yeah._ It sounds right.

Hanna finally musters up a smile again and is only mildly discomfited that it squeezes a tear out of her eye. Din swipes it away before she reaches for it.

It's intimate. Even more so given the recent distance they've maintained. Also because she's tried to refrain from being _that_ emotional in front of him. However, she likes the reassurance of it just now. She turns further toward him and cranes her neck up for a Mandoa-kiss.

That's what she's been calling it in her head ...what had he called it? It was a longer word, but it is one she should ask for again and memorize. Like how she recognizes _ad'ika_ or _elek_ or _gev_ by now.

Regardless of precise terms, he grants the gesture. Leans in to meet her. The cool metal feels nice. Familiar. Safe.

.

"Well, well, well..." Cara arrives in the doorway and the kid _squees_ in merriment. "Hey to you, kiddo ...I guess mommy and daddy are back on the same page now?"

"Mind your business," the Mandalorian straightens up to grouse.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Cara smirks. "No."

They are still ..._whatever they are_ but Cara sounds about right. They're on the same page, it seems.

But the soldier doesn't dwell. She's come so that she and the Mandalorian can do a perimeter sweep. His last one. It's the least he can do, not to mention it's plain common sense.

"Keep the kid close?" he tilts his chin to Hanna.

"Of course"

He couldn't convince her otherwise if he tried. Not today.

Or ever, to be honest.

"And stay armed," he pats the small of her back where he wants her to put the gun and then trails out after Cara, who flashes her a thumbs up before they disappear.

.

By the looks of the Mandalorian's corner, he is essentially ready to go. He'd been half packed-up before and has shoved away whatever was left out. He's tidied his frenzied mess, as well.

Hanna is behind, but...she hadn't been _entirely_ unpacked.

The day after his announcement, she had started clearing up her things. Had hunkered into stubbornness and resolved to leave with him no matter what he preferred. She had been at it a while, too. Right up until the kid had started twirling her bootlaces in a fit of boredom. That had brought her up short. Reminded her why the Mandalorian was doing this in the first place... ...

None of that matters now, of course.

Point is: she's partially packed even though she has gained a few extra belongings while living in the village.

.

As it turns out, the work is slow-going anyway.

Once everyone knew what the gunfire was about, word also got around that the trio would be leaving. Children flood in to protest the departure, specifically because they don't want to say goodbye to their littlest friend. Others come to say their farewells, too; some bring gifts. Hanna can't help but wonder if the Mandalorian had predicted the sentimentality and _that_ is why he'd decided to bail with Cara.

But, no. Checking for safety was habitual. It's fitting that he wouldn't leave without doing so.

Still, the added attention makes packing a lot more tedious and a little more bittersweet. The adults come to say their piece and go, better understanding the choice that's been made. As Hanna won't let the baby out of her sight, the children linger, complaining and talking in hushes tones about how they will miss him. Some even bring little toys for him to take. A bouncing ball. Another little knitted animal - _this one a frog because they say he'll miss the pond frogs and that if he chews on this one it won't be __**disgusting**_**.**

They're kind, both endearing and sad.

.

Some of the children fade away when the Mandalorian returns. It is the usual effect he has on crowds; truth be told, Hanna is grateful for it.

"Can't you stay?" Millie, no longer fearful, sticks around with her fists planted firm on her hips.

"No," the Mandalorian doesn't give.

As per usual, he also doesn't shoo her away. He's indulging her in his own way, just not catering.

"But why?"

"It's too dangerous"

"...I thought _you_ said you're more dangerous."

He stares down at her a few protracted moments.

"...I also have work to do."

"What kind of work?" Millie perks up. "We could help."

"The work isn't on Sorgan," he ups the ante. "Are you ready for hyperspace?"

"... ...no. Space is big and it scares me," Millie's sigh is long and tortured.

The Mandalorian only nods, pleased to have won with simple reason.

"...are you going to be safe?" the girl plows on.

"I'm always safe"

Hanna has personally seen evidence to the contrary, but she doesn't comment. She loops the kids sling over her shoulders and checks the boxes around her. All of her things with the newly added gifts of food and trinkets that have been giving. It's all there.

That's ...it. Done.

When she turns back around she finds Millie plucking something from the Mandalorian's palm.

"For me?!"

It's a long, slim...something. A monocular, Hanna deduces once Millie holds it straight up to her eye and starts looking around.

"...it's foggy."

"It's old. You'll have to keep it clean," he advises.

"Wow ...I can see everything..."

"You should always have an eye out," is his last bit of advice for her.

"...can I tell Emil he's not allowed to play with it?"

"...it's not a toy," the chide is light, if truthful. "But sure."

Millie punches a fist into the air happily and then grabs the Mandalorian around the waist in a hug. He pats her head, uncertain, but the girl doesn't care. She shouts a swift "thank you!" and then shoots out the door. Likely to find the boy she competes with so hard.

Hanna thinks to comment on the exchange but fears that would ruin it. Cheapen it to something silly or cute.

"Your chariot awaits!" Cara shoves through the door to diffuse the moment for her. "...everybody looks ready."

.

The droid-drawn trailer is packed quickly and everyone bids their last well-wishes. Omera talks longer than strictly necessary. Winta sheds a tear or two over the baby. Millie gives Hanna one last hug and then bestows the Mandalorian a longer one. Even Cara is reticent about the goodbyes.

"...I can give you an escort," she offers and Hanna smiles.

The Mandalorian, however, waves her off. Tells her she should stay put. Promises they'll be fine.

Which ...they will. They have figured everything else out; they'll figure out this next step, too. Whatever it is.

"Fine. Have it your way. Here," the soldier tosses a leather something into Hanna's lap where she's already seated on the edge of the trailer.

Frowning, she picks it up and twists it in her hands.

"Thanks...?" she can tell it's a gun holster, but it's not the one Cara leant her during the battle and the hooks confuse her.

"It fits inside your waistband," the Mandalorian supplies from where he stands.

Because _of course_ he doesn't need to inspect it any closer.

"Uh-huh. It's a big galaxy out there ...you might need it," Cara smirks. "And you can't keep shoving guns down the ass of your pants."

"Why? I might shoot something off?" Hanna chuckles.

"You laugh! But I've seen weirder..."

Still smiling wide, Hanna slides off the trailer and holds her arms out for an embrace.

"Ah. You don't have to do that..." the other woman's lip curls.

"I'm doing it," Hanna creep closer but does so slowly just incase.

She accepts, though. Grabs Hanna in a hug that is a little to tight, and the slap on her back is a little too rough. But it's very much Cara.

"Don't lose track of him, huh," she ticks her chin toward the kid.

"Never"

"Mmhmm...don't lose this one, either - you're in charge, you know?" she teases and then faces the Mandalorian; her partner in crime around here. "Until our paths cross again?" she offers him a hand.

"Until then," he agrees and clasps her hands tightly.

They do not hug.

Hanna hadn't expected them to.

"I'll miss you," she bids Cara.

True. She wishes Cara could join them; she'd even heard the Mandalorian offer her to come with them a while. He'd promised to take her wherever she wanted to go next. But Cara isn't done with Sorgan, yet. She wants to soak up the quite life a little longer, and the Mandalorian had agreed she deserved it.

"Eh. You have more excitement waiting for you, I'm sure."

"I'd prefer not, actually."

"Nah. Take one of his guns, use that holster, and shoot a few idiots - you'll like it," Cara promises. "Take to it like a krill to water..."

Hanna had told Cara about the man she'd shot on Nevarro. Cara seemed to understand her squeamishness but had also given her a rousing speech about survival instincts. Then she'd declared that practice made perfect - an idea that's ominous and not particularly welcome.

"We'll see..."

"Let's go," the Mandalorian pats Hana's hip to usher her back to task.

.

They both climb onto the trailer bed, legs dangling over the back, and the droid gets moving as soon as the Mandalorian shouts the order. Cara and the others who had lingered to wave slowly grow distant. Hanna waves back and sears the faces into her brain.

They'd been family for a while.

The kids brushes against her leg as he installs himself between the two adults so he can wave, too. His three little fingers wiggle goodbye until they're fully immersed within the trees. Then he just looks up at his two keepers, blinking slowly.

Hanna takes pity first and pulls him into her lap, where he snatches Cara's gift to sniff it and then begin nibbling at the edges.

"Uh, no," Hanna chastises and shifts it aside and out of the way.

In exchange, she reaches into the sling she's still wearing to fish out a toy for him. Her fingers find his floppy froggy, and he takes it with a gleeful smile. Instead of chew on that, however, he just tucks it up under his chin and leans against her side.

It's clear he's sentient enough for nostalgia.

Meanwhile, the Mandalorian has taken up her new holster and runs his hands over it, rubbing and twisting, to inspect the quality.

"...it's a nice gift," he grades.

And all Hanna had given Cara was a hug.

"Yeah ...I guess she's right. It'll be good to have. It's a big galaxy..."

Part of her hopes he will assure her that she won't need it, but she knows that's not something anyone can promise. It would be pointless to pretend, and he's not someone who talks just to hear the sound of his own voice.

"It is."

.

The ride back to the Razor Crest is long but graciously uneventful. They're mostly quiet save for some tragically stilted smalltalk when Hanna tries to feel him out; test his mood. He responds to everything she say, but his body is coiled in a tension that makes him uninviting so she opts not to push.

Discussion isn't needed when they unload the trolly, either; they work in easy tandem without many words. When they finish, the Mandalorian amuses the kid and Hanna ventures back out to program the droid for its return home - _he probably would have been leaving it sit there to rust._

.

The hull is empty when she reenters, so she seals the ramp and climbs up to the cockpit where the Mandalorian is firing his ship back to life. Charging the engines, flipping switches, and checking read-outs like he's hadn't been gone at all. The kid is perched in his lap, happy as can be to listen to the gauges chime and watch colors light up along the dash. He doesn't seem to be bothering the man's concentration, so Hanna leaves him and takes her own seat. Buckles up as if this has been their plan all along.

Perhaps it's best that night has already fallen. That they are able to take-off without having to watch the lush greenery fad slowly away.

They're just...gone.

This chapter is over. Just like that.

.

"Look," Hanna starts once their altitude has leveled off. "We both said a lot of things back there. If you ...shared more than you wanted to, I understand. If ...well. Is there anything you want to take back?"

That opens the door for a lot of things, she is well aware.

But she trusts he knows the thing she means.

His name.

She can't forget it. Not ever. But he could forbid her form using it. He'd obviously wanted to share, but the situation has changed and maybe ...maybe it's too much. She can understand that.

Well...she sort of can't.

But she will try.

"No..." he only pauses a moment in programming flight settings. "There's nothing."

A soft grin tilts Hanna's lips, though she knows he can't see it with her chair staggered back from his as it is.

The galaxy is huge, sure.

They don't know what's out there, and they have some things to straighten up.

But, yes. They're going to be alright.

She feels that, finally. Isn't just hoping and crossing her fingers.


	21. Echos

**Chapter 21: ****Echos**

Hanna settles the baby back in his cubby amongst the padding and blankets they've made for him. It's a veritable nest, and she can only hope he'll stay asleep long enough for the rest of the ship to get adequate rest, too. His sleep has gotten skewed from the removal of traditional light-and-dark, and a couple days hasn't been long enough to adjust.

Once she's satisfied that his breathing is steady and remaining slow, Hanna presses the the door switch so his cubby becomes like a cocoon to the outside world.

She heads to her own bunk suppressing a little slight tremor.

The kid's circadian rhythm isn't the only thing needing adjustment. Hanna had let herself forget how cold space can be. Especially after the humidity of Sorgan, the coolness of the ship feels worse than it is. She is always just a touch uncomfortable and her fingertips often sting with chill.

She'll adapt back to it.

But it's less than enjoyable.

.

The set-up of the bunks is the same as before. Hanna's near the floor and the Mandalorian's bed is stacked a couple feet above that; a blanket is still tucked under his thin mattress to create a semi-curtain. It's more cramped than Sorgan and not as cozy, but they have a fresher only feet away where they can enjoy circulating water and privacy so that's a bonus. Tradeoffs.

Missing the warmth from cuddling the kid, she impulsively snatches the blanket-cum-curtain from it's place and adds it to her bed. Maybe the Mandalorian won't be pleased, but she knows the rules by now; if he truly believes she'll try to catch a peek at his face after all this time then they have bigger problems.

Problems they ...may or may not talk about.

Din has been near mute the past couple days with both her _and_ the kid. Which is worrisome. She's can't be sure if he's angry or just melting back into the lonely ship life he'd grown so accustomed to or ...any other of a whole list of possible issues.

She wants to ask.

Should ask.

Knows, deep down, that she _can_ ask.

But she's tackling one thing at a time.

Right now, the kid's fitful and sporadic sleep is high on her list of priorities. As is the pitiful way he has taken to carrying his stuffed animals around the perimeter of the ship like he's looking for somewhere else to go - an escape back to his friends, for instance. _That_ habit needs to go posthaste. So she's been busy recreating games they'd played in the village with any convenient substitute she finds laying around the ship, and she's crafted safe toys out of whatever catches his interest.

Well ...almost anything.

He had noticed the Mandalorian's weapon's stash when he was reloading his closet, and the kid was most assuredly not allowed to play there. The Mandalorian had managed to distract him with an old, dying emergency light; the kid is now the proud owner a nightlight that blinks slow and red in his cubby for a few minutes at a time before needing to be shaken to life again. Hanna has already informed the man that he'll need to figure out an adequate (aka:non-blinding) replacement when the light finally dies; he seems confident he'll come up with something.

All that to say: she's been busy despite limited space and options. Or, rather, perhaps she is busy _because_ of those factors.

She hasn't even started on the little list of maintenance issues she's made for herself. It's not easy to get things done with a baby around, particularly when the two adults aren't the best team at the moment. If only there were a hoard of willing babysitters here like they'd had the past weeks - "it takes a village" has taken on a very literal meaning lately. They'd been spoiled.

But that's nothing she can solve tonight. She'll consider it again in the morning. For now, she changes and cleans in the fresher and then crawls into bed one blanket warmer.

.

She is still half awake when Din comes down, his feet, light though he keeps them, rousing her from a hazy state.

"Hanna?" he checks once his steps come to a stop.

He's probably eyeing the altered state of the bunks; she imagines his head tilted in curiosity.

So she doesn't respond. Pretends to be asleep so he'll just let the curtain issue drop. Both because of the temperature and because, well ...it means something if he can let it go.

She hears him shuffle forward and takes that mean he's straightening up his bed.

She grins into the dark.

Then twitches when she feels his hand is on her shoulder. She curls her fingers into the blanket petulantly, and rolls onto her back to see him crouched beside the bed.

"I was cold..."

She pictures sidling up to _him_ instead. That would be a welcome invite, and it would be perfectly warm. But they aren't exactly back there yet.

"Right..."

His hand slips away and he straightens up to rustle around some more; then he's crouching again and spreads something across her. Another blanket. His, probably. She hadn't asked for that and ought to give it back so -_oh.._.

She recognizes the worn, woolen material instantly once it's draped over her.

His cloak.

"Thanks..."

"Of course"

He is gone in the next moment.

Hanna rubs her fingers over the cloak. It is still body warm, which excites her more than such a small thing ought to. She even pulls the material up to her chin so she can more easily smell it. The scent she's come to associate with him; metallic and something musky she hasn't found a name for.

There are more words in Hanna's throat, and she knows he will hear them even as he bustles around ...but she swallows it. Is willing to let this moment be what it is. A fond gesture. One that's hospitable and suggests, yes, she's welcome here even if it's against his original plan.

A thing she's been insecure about at times.

Mostly so when it's late and dark like this.

While he had explicitly stated he didn't want to take back anything they'd shared in the village, that wasn't a magic wand. It doesn't smooth everything out, so they are regressed to where they are. Small gestures. Thank you's. Being glad he acknowledges the words.

Almost like the way things were on the ship before they'd even heard of Sorgan. But everything between now and then couldn't just be _wiped away_.

Impossible.

Hanna knows she's just being morose.

She needs sleep.

So she curls back onto her side to find her coziest position. She hears him climb into the bunk above shortly, but she remains unmoving. Eyes closed. Breathing slowly. Trying to relax.

The white noise of the ship is lulling, in a way, but very different than all of the sounds of life she'd grown used to while sleeping in the barn. Rustling trees. Soft ripples in the bonds. Frogs. Birds. Even bugs. Hanna hadn't liked those noises in the beginning, but they had become peaceful and reassuring to her.

So she can't _quite_ sleep deeply yet.

.

Which means she's awake when the bunk above her jolts.

And something hits the wall.

She twitches in response and lifts her head. Listening hard.

"...alright?"

"Yes," the answer from above her is clipped but tantalizingly unsynthesized. "Go back to sleep."

Sure. Easy to say.

All falls quiet for some time. Long enough for Hanna's heart to calm from the scare, but she is still awake an alert when the bunk creeks again and feet tap to the ground beside her. He must think she's dozed off again.

Hanna resists the urge to peep and see where he goes.

He's an adult and he knows his way around.

.

Even so, when he doesn't return Hanna does twist around and squint past the edge of his bed to search for light. She finds it flooding out from the galley corner ...a midnight snack, perhaps?

She fights with herself internally. Tells herself she should go back to bed and leave him be. To just forget it. He is fine and they are in space - what could happen?

Well. Shit. Plenty of things, technically.

Point is: he's fine.

But ...she also knows that she's welcome to go find him. Or she ought to be. If she's not ...well, that would be important to find out. But she rubs her fingers over his cloak again and believes, yes, she's more than allowed.

So curiosity wins out and Hanna shimmies out of her bunk and her cocoon of blankets.

She shivers as soon as the cool metal floor bites up through her socks, so she ducks back down to grab his cloak and wraps it around her shoulders. Then she's shuffling off towards the kitchenette.

.

She stops just shy of the galley. She is sure that he must know she's awake, but she pauses and wiggles her toes to warm them anyway.

"Are you ...decent?" she knocks a knuckle against the wall to announce herself.

"Yes"

When she steps into the entry way, she finds him seated with his forearms propped forward on the circular table. A glass of water sits in front of him, so, yes, he'd heard her coming and put his helmet back on in anticipation. Through it, he watches her enter without comment so she has to intuit that she's free to join him.

He is using the only real chair, but they'd put metal crates next to it for a pseudo-bench, so she can still seat herself close to him

"Can't sleep?"

"No," he provides the obvious answer.

"Do ...you want to talk about it?"

The words sound forced, and Hanna sort of wants to take them back. To take a deep breath and try again.

In any case, he doesn't answer.

He goes quiet and looks away from her.

Hanna grants him the time to think. She twists and pulls her knees up in front of her, leans forward against them and pushes her toes under Din's thigh to keep them warm there.

She looks around and can't help but remember this is the first place they'd had real conversations. No matter how stilted or searching it had been at the time, those counted. It was also the first place he'd trusted her - just with fixing his food prep machine, _but still_.

Hanna hides her smile by making a grab for his water and taking a sip. Maybe that's rude, but it isn't as though he is will drink it while she's sitting right there.

.

When she has enough of waiting, she readies herself to speak. She isn't _proud_ of feeling uncomfortable. They'd gotten good at this, haven't they? Talking. Feeling each other out. And she's grown comfortable embracing silences with him...but it all feels a little fuzzy at the moment.

"Bad dream?" she ventures, waggling her toes enough to jostle his leg for his attention.

He answers with less of a hesitation than she expects.

No hesitation, in fact.

"Yes."

She's been there. She gets it.

"...I'm sorry."

He shakes his head at the table before turning his visor back on her.

"It's not your fault"

"I know that, but-"

"It's mine."

That's ...curious.

"I'm...having trouble letting go of the fact that if I'd left ...you and the kid would've..." he sighs and clears his throat. "A hunter would have found you...I keep seeing it."

_Ah_. Well. Hanna has thought of that, too, of course. More than once. It's not a happy thought to dwell on. Or a pretty one. In the end it was also pointless because the fact remained:

"We're okay"

"If Cara had stayed to talk with me and Felix ...if I had left that morning or the day before and she'd been somewhere else..."

"You'll drive yourself crazy doing that"

She's not entirely sure _why_ she is trying to talk him out of his guilt. If he feels ashamed of his plan and scared of the ramifications, surely that will behoove her in the end, yes? She only knows she doesn't want him to be haunted by what he's seeing in his dreams.

Her.

_The kid._

He knows more than her about weapons and carnage. The visuals his mind must be able to conjure up...she can only imagine. Though she tries not to.

"But I was planning to"

"I know..." she concedes with a little sigh of her own and hunkers down some more under his cloak.

"There wouldn't have been anything I could do ..."

Hanna nods.

She remembers his words during their selfdefense lessons. All of his talk about control - taking back control, keeping control, being the one who chooses when to engage or disengage.

"I guess that's not a feeling you're used to..."

"No," he confirms. "It isn't."

It's new to him.

Just another thing to add to the list.

"Well," Hanna certainly can't fix that fact despite whatever she might wish. "I'm right here..."

She sets aside the glass of water and slides her hand into his, pulling it towards herself to cradle against her knees.

"I know that..."

His hand is gloveless, and his fingers squeeze around hers.

"And the kid is alright. Well ...he will be," it feels like a lie to say he's right as rain. "We got lucky."

"I'm not comfortable living on luck..."

Right. Bad choice of words. Luck's not control. Luck is chance and whimsy.

"We're safe. That's all I mean."

"Yeah..."

Hanna gets it. It doesn't feel like enough. Not after such a close call. Not when it's fleeting. Maybe it's harder for him when it's too easy to write a story that meant disaster would have been his fault.

"I'm ...not used to my choices effecting other people. Not directly ...not really," he hedges. "I just stumbled into this..."

"Trust me. I know," Hanna gives his hand a shake. "...I've been here for pretty much all of it."

He scoffs a breath, and she has to grin a little in return.

"I was being nearsighted ...I see that, now. I thought I was making the best choice," he goes on. "The safest choice for everyone..."

"I guess that's part of the problem, right?" she squirms and doesn't enjoying calling him out, but she supposes it has just been a matter of time. "You making choices for everyone all on your own..."

He soughs and tries to tug his hand from hers. It's a reflex, something protective, but Hanna doesn't permit it. She clutches her grip tighter still.

"I...just wanted you to be safe," he implores her.

He's sounded unsure thus far. A little insecure, maybe. But this, at least, he's positive about.

So she nods along. She has never _not_ believed that piece.

"That's not a bad thing"

_True_.

"But... you have this pretty picture of the life I should have - quiet and happy. And, sure, I kind of love that...that you want it for me. And it would be great," Hanna can't lie about that, as if she's never imagined a future raising their favorite green alien in a cozy home on a soft planet. "That's never been my life, though, and it's not your fault. My life has always been ...unsure. And, I don't know...dicey."

"Not like this"

"Well. Kind of," she ignores his refute. "I was being chased with the kid before you came along. I was an indent ...and just shy of destitute even before that. I was uprooted a lot. It was never simple."

"I understand, but..."

"Listen up," Hanna flicks his hand. "I'm trying to say something..."

She doesn't feel confident, _exactly_, but she finally thinks she knows what she wants to say and feels just relaxed enough here to spit it out.

"Sorry..."

"It's ...home has never been a house where things were quiet and easy. I had my mom or I had friends - that's what made shitty places worth it. I ...don't get nostalgic over places, is what I mean. _People_ are home," she shifts her gaze to look at him but then darts her eyes away, and this time it's _him_ stopping _her_ from drawing her hand away. She smiles at him in thanks. "Sorgan was good - really good. But I would rather make something...here. With you and the kid. Something that's mine. Well..." she starts at that and frowns. "Not _mine_. Ours."

"Hanna..."

"And it's not like I want to just mooch of you," she flies on with a flutter of sudden nerves. "I'll pick up jobs. Earn credits..."

"Hanna"

"Especially if we touch down somewhere a little longer. It'll be easy," Hanna suddenly feels like she can't shut up and let him have a rebuttal. "And I know things are still a mess, and it's not fair that you have to be on-guard and protect us if w-"

"Hanna, stop," he gets his words in. "I don't mind that; it's not a burden. I just..."

His helmet is only half-tilted in her direction but she can feel his eyes; she's certain of that.

"I lose people..."

"Hmmm?"

"...my parents when I was young. After that, the Mandalorian brothers and sisters I was brought up and trained with - we weren't always in fractured enclaves," he explains. "Then I started taking solo work. I could still provide. I could care, but I could do it from a distance. I know it doesn't sound brave when I put it that way..."

His shoulders hunch in an unfamiliar way and Hanna frowns.

"You were risking your life to do it," she offers him.

"Mmm...yes," he agrees for lack of true alternative. "But I didn't have to worry about connections. Now with you and the kid, I think ... ..." he heaves a bone-deep sigh. "I guess I'm just waiting for you to be taken away..."

That hits Hanna with a pang in her gut. And she thinks she can understand some of his pervasive guilt, too. As if he could possibly be responsible for what happened to his parents. Or like he hadn't tried hard enough for his adopted brothers and sisters - she knows without hearing the story that he had.

Confident though he may be in many things, he doesn't trust himself with relationships. Partially out of care. Probably also partially for self-preservation.

Hanna doesn't have the same strategy - she _wants _successors for relationships she's lost. Feels a desire to fill that void even though it means risking that the wound might rip open again. Maybe because she was older. Maybe because her losses haven't been so violent.

But she sees where he's coming from.

"I get that... ...sometimes it's scary to let yourself get used to good things..."

He hums understanding.

"I didn't think I wanted any of it again," he cocks his chin and then turns his T-visor fully towards her again. "But ...you've ...opened up something in me I thought I'd ruined..."

Well.

_Well_.

"The kid, too..." he adds thoughtfully. "I care for the foundlings, but ...he's different."

Hanna bites her lip against a wide, probably goofy, grin.

"I'm not sure what to say," she confesses when she finds that it's true.

While she looks for words she pulls his hand up further to kiss his knuckles.

"...it might not come to anything good," he warns, voice light though he isn't looking away.

"It already is ...it's really good..."

"...yes. It is."

Hanna stares back into his visor, chewing on her lip with her grin lingering in her eyes.

"...can I ask your something?"

"Mmhmm"

"...are you smiling?"

"Yes"

Hanna stops her biting so she can smile properly in return.

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Of course"

"...are you _really _smiling or do you just tell me that sometimes because it's what I want to hear?" she needles just a bit.

"Hmmm..."

Din tugs on her hand and moves it up towards his helmet. Hanna starts to look away on reflex, but he says nothing about closing her eyes. A moment later her fingertips scrape over stubble - his chin.

Then his lips.

He lets her trace over to the corners, which tilt upward just so.

"So not lying this time..." she's still smirking, too, and probably blushing by now.

He's kind to rarely point it out.

"No," his lips move against her fingers before she drags them away, tickling his prickly beard as she does.

It's a temptation. Everything that's shielded behind his helmet, really, but his mouth especially. Hanna knows she can't have them - or, at least_, not always_ \- so she settles for leaning in to kiss the the black of his visor over the area of his lips. She feels the shift of his head so stays where she is, bent forward, until his forehead meets hers.

It's been a while.

But it feels nice.

Maybe more than nice.

.

He lingers a few moments and then straights up.

"I'm sorry..."

Hanna raises both brows but waits to respond. She doesn't want to assume.

"That I made a pretty hard try at fucking things up..."

Maybe it shouldn't surprise her that his interpretation is so self-deprecating.

"That wasn't your intention. Neither of us knew exactly what was going to happen..."

She had been angry with him herself, sure, but she's also fair. He had done a loving thing; he'd just gone about it all wrong. In her humble opinion, at least.

"That doesn't matter"

"It's what _does_ matter. It isn't fair to judge yourself by hindsight..."

"Maybe..."

"Just admit I'm right," she pushes him light in the thigh with her foot.

She hears a faint scoff through the helmet.

"You can learn from hindsight, though... yeah?" she continues bouncing her foot restlessly against his leg.

"...yes," he agrees and drops his hand to her ankle, steadying her foot and giving it a firm, massaging squeeze.

"If we're going to do ..._this, _then you can't just cut me out. Not anymore."

His head shakes in a tiny nod.

"I mean it," Hanna ducks her head to try to ensure she's meeting his eye.

"I understand that," he turns square to her.

And she's pretty sure he wouldn't lie straight to her face, but...

"...do you?" she urges. "Because it would essentially be like if I took the kid and ditched out on you at the next spaceport to keep you safe from the bounty hunters who are after us. In a certain light ...that's logical. You know?"

His grip tightens on her ankle, his thumb digging painfully into her achilles tendon until she wiggles it away and his fingers twitch open.

"I see how it was unfair to you," he rubs his thumb in a soothing circle on the back of her ankle, now.

Hanna nods.

"Alright ...I want you to care about more than my safety. I mean, that _is_ important obviously..."

"Obviously," he's firm on the point.

"...but I have thoughts and wants, and I can help you. With the ship, with plans. With anything."

"I never thought you couldn't," his assurance is swift.

Because of course it is. He'd pegged her need to contribute and, yes, prove herself, long ago. He's obtuse in some regards, but other times she swears he sees straight through her.

"Okay then..."

"And I'm not happy about what happened on Sorgan, but I am ..._glad_ you're here," he surprises her, for she'd thought the conversation closed.

Hanna looks away to smile because she's sure there's something a little too pleased in it. Almost smug.

"It's a relief to me," he finishes despite her shy reaction ...or maybe _because_ of it.

She doesn't know.

Doesn't particularly care.

"Me too...obviously"

"Obviously," he echos again, and this time she can hear the smile on his face without asking or feeling for it.

.

"You should get back to sleep," Din suggests after he watches her roll her neck and smother down a yawn.

"Hmm, yeah," Hanna is amenable to that. "Never know when the kid will be up...are you going, too?"

He hesitates more than she did but nods in the end. He follows her back out of the galley and smooths a hand over her side when they reach the bunks.

"...you want this back?" she eyes the cloak the fingers are brushing over.

_His_ cloak. She supposes he deserves it more than she does.

"No," he yanks his hand back. "No, you should keep it. If you're still cold ...I'll join you..."

He sounds hopeful, and of course Hanna shoots him a grin and nods without second thought.

"Face the wall?"

_Excellent_.

"Mmhmm"

.

Hanna dives back down into bed, settles the blanket over her, and leaves them flipped up so he can slip under with her.

Once she's done moving, he sidles up behind her. A dull _thunk _towards the head of the bed indicates he's set aside the helmet. She lets him situate himself and then backs further into him so she's flush against his frond.

"You're warm..."

"Mmm...I'll go back to my bed in a few minutes," Hanna lets herself relish the tickle of his breath through her hair before mulling over his words.

"I'm not worried"

She both hears and feels him chuckle.

"...don't _even_ say I should be."

"I won't ... ...you don't have to worry," he promises offhandedly while he rubs her from hip to ribs, then back again.

"I don't think I've told you; I like your voice..."

His hand hesitates only a second in repeating it's path along her side.

"...so you don't like when I talk under the helmet?" there's a lilt to his tone, making Hanna smile.

"Yup. I usually hate everything you say."

He huffs a proper laugh. Apparently he takes note of the shiver that rouses and nuzzles forward to kiss the back of her neck.

"Hmm," her head cranes back but she jerks it to a stop. "Your facial hair tickles..."

"Yeah," he grunts and pulls his hand away a moment; she hears a light scrape as he scrubs his face. "I gotta shave..."

Hanna imagines feeling his skin smooth against hers instead and smiles.

When his hand returns to her, it's warm and welcome. The rest of him feels rigid behind her, however. He's not leaning in. Not melting against her like he's cozy. Maybe because he doesn't plan to sleep here? Or maybe he's still just tightly wound...

"Can I roll over? I'll keep my eyes covered," she proves by reaching a hand up to her face.

"Alright..."

Hanna squirms around onto her other side, keeping her palm over her eyes all the while.

When she stills she searches her other hand slowly up his arm and past the bunched-up cowl at his neck to the back of his head. Once there, she combs into his hair to play her fingers through it, occasionally squeezing her fingers for a light tug, and massaging his scalp.

He sighs and leans his forehead to hers.

"Feels nice, right?" Hanna grins and returns the pressure.

"...yes."

"My mom always brushed my hair when I was upset..."

He hums to acknowledge what she has shared, then goes quiet.

.

They enjoy the silence for several long moments before his nose brushes past hers and his lips push a soft, brief kiss unto her. Hanna tilts her chin up for another, but he's gone.

"I remember my mother would rub my back if I couldn't sleep," he reciprocates, tone light like he's musing. Almost as if he's just remembering now that he's thinking for the memory.

He skims his hands past her side and skims along her back. Up and down. Massages tiny circles with his fingertips in an echo of what she's performing on his scalp.

"That's a nice memory..."

She hears a shift against the pillow and feels his nod in her hand.

"...would you rather I-" Hanna starts to trail her hand down his neck.

"No," he halts her. "No; go on. This is relaxing..."

Perfect.

"Alright," she stretches her fingers back up into his hair, scratching her nails lightly along the way.

He grunts. Thens shifts forward to kiss her again, his lips still light and unassuming. It lingers longer than the last, and Hanna tilts into the comfort.

She smiles, content, when they lean back and assumes he will see it in the dim light.

They fall quiet again. Hanna is warm and sleepy, but his occasional shifting suggests he's not resting yet. She wonders if he'd getting ready to make the escape he'd alluded to. Incase that is so, she scoots closer under the pretense of heat - though she's sure she doesn't _need_ an excuse_ -_ and works one of her legs between his to keep him there.

.

Her shoulder eventually stiffens under her, and Hanna rearranges herself again. Shifts down and tucks her head against Din's chest so she can adjust her arm and won't need to keep covering her face.

"Is this okay?" she doesn't stray her hand far just yet.

"...yes."

That's sort of a huge deal, and her chest feels light. Nearly giddy.

He does draw his palm from her back to push into her hair, holding her to him. She's not offended as he tucks his head over hers, too. He needs to be sure before he'll relax.

Her fingers have left his hair and travel now to his side. Crawl over his ribs and flank to find a place to settle. He twitches when she brushes his obliques but she doesn't exploit it. Just loops her arm over his back. He's wearing separates just now - tied, knits pants and a thermal top _\- _and_ that _she does take advantage of. Slips her hand up the back of his shirt to rest on bare skin.

Not with any assumptions.

At least, not _really_.

He does shudder at the touch, and then she can't help but wonder if this will spur him on to something more...physical. Wonders, too, how easy (or not) it would be to manage that feat down here...

But when he kisses her forehead and then nuzzles against her crown, she figures that's more than enough.

And venturing close to normal.


	22. Time and Space

_****Some sexy times at the beginning of the chapter ...but it's in a flashback, so it's all in italics if you want to skip over it :) ****_

* * *

**Chapter 22: Time and Space**

Hanna is bustling around the hold of The Crest straightening up things that don't even need to be straightened. It's not nerves, not really, but she's restless.

It's _his_ fault.

Din's being cagy. Acting strange and tense in a quiet, subtle way she can't quite explain. She _definitely_ can't guess the reason for the mood or figure just when it had taken root.

Because she knows he he wasn't being twitchy like this when they decided to steal away into the galley for sex earlier that morning.

.

_ "Hanna," he'd sighed out her name when she nipped lightly at his neck. _

_ He'd been in the process of donning his gear when she exited the fresher and thought interrupting him might be fun, but he hadn't gotten all of his top layers on yet. Which meant she had unimpeded access to his upper body. _

_ Thank you very much! _

_ And she didn't want to be too loud - little ears being asleep elsewhere on the ship and all - so if she had to bite a little...then she had to bite a little_.

_ Not too hard. _

_ No one would see the evidence. _

_ Not that he showed off much skin for anyone to look at, anyway. _

_ Just her... _

_ She grinned to herself at the thought and smoothed her tongue over the skin she'd scraped with her teeth. Considered biting again. Then sucked against the soft skin instead just to see what he would do. _

_ Din's hips stuttered a brief moment and his hands curled on her thighs to tug her tight to the edge of the counter she was perched on. Hanna moaned and squeezed her legs around his waist to make him wait. To grind long and slow against where he was shoved up inside her. She threw her head back, then, basking in the feeling and in the grunt that crackled out of him. _

_ His helmet pressed down against her neck a moment later, taking advantage of the way she'd exposed herself. She shivered at the feel of the metal but clutched her hands over his shoulders to keep him close anyway. _

_ Always closer. _

_ Once she loosened her legs he could resume the pace he wanted, which he did. _

_ With enthusiasm. _

_ He slapped a hand down onto the counter to anchor himself, the other curled low around her back to keep her gathered close. He thrust deep and groaned her name again, the word slithering through his vocorder. It was followed by a foreign word once she shoved both of her hands past his undone flight suit to grope over the taut skin of his torso. _

_ Hanna didn't understand the word, of course, but the way he spat it made her think it was a curse. She grinned afresh and twisted her face into the metal of his helmet so she could plant a kiss there. He seemed to sense it in one way or another and lifted his helmet to press his forehead to hers. _

_ Mirshmure'cya. That was the word. She'd asked the previous day to make sure she could get it right. Had made him say it nice and slow so she could repeat it correctly in her head. _

_ Hanna pressed back against him and delighted in the way it made him surge in. Grip her tighter. _

_ The hand around her back shifted her closer, tilting her hips, and she had to swallow a stunted cry at the new angle. Her own hands tightened at his sides, scratching just enough to make him twitch. A feat she would've smirked about if she weren't so thoroughly distracted. _

_ "Stars," she panted and pulled one of her hands off of him to push lower. _

_ She paused halfway there . Considered. Then raised her hand instead, slipping her digits past the bottom of his helmet and over his chin. His head ticked like he was making a bid to reel away from her but stopped himself. _

_ "It's okay," she breathed and brushed her fingers over his pursed bottom lip. "Go on..." _

_ He kissed her fingertips and kept his lips parted so she could swipe them into his mouth over his tongue. Hanna found she was thrilled that he leaned in and suckled softly. She was even almost sorry to pull her hand away and snake South down her body. _

_ He tilted his head down to watch this move. _

_ When she slipped her fingers between her legs to touch herself he groaned long and deep, and if she weren't already flushed with arousal she probably would've blushed at how obscene it sounded. Just a little._

_ Din removed his hand from the counter to push on her shoulder until Hanna leaned back and had to brace herself on the counter with her other hand. She hitched her legs up to loop together behind him, squeezing enough to rut his hips further just once. _

_ "Hanna," her name was a gasp as his chin dropped to his chest and he twitched a hand up to squeeze her knee. _

_ When she eased up he skated the hand down her leg and over her torso to feel her up. The pressure of his touch was warm and welcome, and she arched into it and dropped her head back with a sigh. She was sure she looked wanton. _

_ She also happened to be sure she didn't care. _

_ Nor did Din. No; he enjoyed it very much if the squeeze of his hands and the snap of his hips were anything to judge by ..._

.

So. Yeah. He had not been confusing then.

In fact, Hanna would argue he had been extremely, _perfectly_, clear.

.

Things had been nice - _more than_. Especially so since it had been a while for them; they hadn't had sex since the night he'd revealed his plans to leave Sorgan. In contrast, this morning had been casual and fun, certainly not layered or emotional. Or so she'd thought ...hmm...

Another difference was that he'd kept his helmet on this time.

Should she have asked him to make another blindfold? Hanna isn't sure if that was a one-time, special-occasions-only sort of thing and hadn't wanted to ask. Didn't need to, really; she had grown used to the helmet as a fixture of it's own in their relationship, even during intimacy.

Maybe he was annoyed? Or offended...could he possibly be worried she hadn't liked it? She is certain she has made it clear she very much enjoys kissing him. She had appreciated him taking off his helmet in the heat of things, not just when they were laying together calm and rational. That he trusted her not to lose herself. Maybe she hadn't _said _the words, but he must _know_, right?

It just isn't a necessity that he do it again. But he could have offered; she wouldn't have _minded_...

.

Whatever the case may be, Hanna is now a little jumpy herself.

.

They had made landfall the previous evening to fuel up and replenish supplies. She's finishing up inventory of the ship now (food, a few parts, various mundane supplies) and it is tedious work. She has no true reason to be nervous.

Except that she is.

She can't get a read on the Mandalorian, and it all seems like very poor and curious timing. They're going to split up so they can be quick, and she finds she doesn't want to.

Which is silly.

Not to mention childish.

She knows how to act at a spaceport. Understands the flow and how to manage the hustle and bustle. She can find reasonable prices on supplies and knows how to haggle where it's allowed. _She can do this_.

So why does she feel so unsure about it?

.

When the time comes, an hour or so later, she makes herself ask. For her own sanity. And safety, really - she doesn't want to be upset or distracted when they venture out into a new place for the first time in so long. Not when there's a good chance the kid might try to make a break for it and explore anything he finds

"Thanks," she takes her portion of the split credits and weighs the small bag in her palm so she has something to do with her hands. "...hey, is ...anything wrong?"

He twists his helmet up toward her from his attempt to shove his own credits in a pouch on his belt.

No," he answers taking a brief moment to mull over her words. "Nothing's wrong..."

"You're sure?"

"...yes."

He sounds it but cocks his head as if to question her right back. Which makes her feel silly again. She looks away and fiddles uselessly with the braid she's plaited her long hair into. It's not a precise recreation of the braids the girls on Sorgan could quickly conjure, but it's tight and it will keep.

"Well... you seem distracted"

"I'm ...no," he shakes his head again on second thought. "I'm not."

He's facing Hanna square, which usually makes her believe what he says. But something doesn't _feel_ true. Which, of course, she can't explain in a tangible way.

"...you're making me nervous," she just sticks it out to confess. "What aren't you saying?"

His chin ticks again and he takes time to survey her.

"Just like I said: nothing," he repeats himself slowly and sounds a little more reassuring. "I guess I'm wound tight about this," he gestures at the ramp, and the confession does settle her some.

"Okay..." Hanna nods, glancing away from his gaze only to dart her eyes to the kid who is poking his head out of the sling.

She'd settled him there earlier and he'd squirmed happily, seeming to understand they'd be departing the ship very soon. He now seems confused - perhaps even perturbed - not to be embarking on said journey already.

"Hanna..." the Mandalorian draws her attention to himself on purpose this time. "I'm ...I'm _not_ leaving you here."

Her eyes pop wide in alarm and watches him cock his head in concern.

"What? Who said _leaving? _I'm ..._" _

And, then again ...hadn't that niggled at the back of her mind? If she's honest - _really honest_ \- his sudden tetchy attitude might have made her think of how he'd drawn away to start packing his things. _Maybe_. Or to remember how he'd started to steal off to his ship to ready himself before she found out about his plans.

They had talked that out, and she believes what he'd said . Truly. She does. But maybe there is a latent panic she doesn't want to acknowledge.

"Hanna..."

"I don't think you would do that," she rushes, sure that this conversation is offensive.

They've _just_ gotten onto the same page, and now she's ruining it only days later. Rude.

She just thought she could feel something going on.

"I think ...kriff. I guess I'm wound up too.."

True.

"Everything is fine," his voice is even and soft as it can be through the modulator. "This is one of the safer ports we could pick. We just need to supply up for all of us."

_All of us_.

It's a pointed statement she doesn't need. Not really.

But she appreciates it anyway.

"Yeah. I know ...I know that..."

They both stand in quiet a few moments, which is only broken by the kid cooing up at Hanna and kicking his feet in a restless manner against the brown, woven fabric. She shifts her weight to bounce him lightly, as if he could be tricked into thinking she's on the move even when he can see for himself everyone is just standing around.

"...you're good?" he's the one checking-in, now.

"Mmmhmm..."

Hanna takes a half step towards him but isn't sure of the purpose so she stops. They should get moving.

"And you've got the comm?"

She nods and watches him close the space between them.

"Good ...if it doesn't take long here at the dock for fuel I'll find you"

Despite herself, that reassures her more than anything else. So does him cupping the back of her head to tap his forehead to hers.

"We'll meet up soon," he promises her before leaning back to stare down at the kid and trace a gloved finger over his tiny knot of a nose.

The little one wiggles away but is giggling before he darts away past a fold of fabric to hide. He gets a poke through the side of he sling from the man, but that only makes him emit a more shrill giggle.

"Sounds like a plan," Hanna drags her eyes from the wiggling sling and back to the Mandalorian before her.

He nods one last time.

And then they're off.

.

.

_ Kriff_, but it's nice to get out and stretch their legs and see new things. A week isn't a long time in the grand scheme of things, but after the scenery and freedom of Sorgan the Razor Crest was a stark 180. But the streets are bright and bustling as Hanna seeks out some supplies and food rations to get sent back to their temporary hanger.

To her relief, the kid isn't a pest about any of it. He is interested, because of course he is, but is content to hang his arms out of the sling and just watch everyone. Even when he spots a a snack he would like to explore, he just squeaks and makes grabby hands instead of trying to hoist himself out to freedom.

Which ...Hanna gives-in to.

Maybe Din would call her soft. She calls it "rewarding good behavior."

She has no idea what the kid calls it, but he smacks his lips in content when she hands him little cubes of meat off of the spit-roasting stick she'd purchased.

.

But then she gets back down to business and hunts down the supplies they need.

.

"He looks like he's handling it well..."

Hanna jerks in surprise when the Mandalorian materializes beside her outside the storefront where she is eyeing some miniature clothing.

"Hi ...and yeah. He's been pretty calm. Happy, though," she reports.

The kid doesn't look at all alarmed to have been joined by someone. He just blinks up at his other favorite adult, flashes some white teeth, and waves.

"...good job, _ad'ika_," the Mandalorian ruffles the sparse hairs atop the wrinkly green head.

The kid reaches his arms up to try to capture the gloved hand but fails, then waves his hands at the man. For a nervous moment Hanna thinks he's trying to _use his powers_ out here in the open but then realizes he's only playing. Or possibly fussing. He could likely use a nap soon...

"Does he need some things?" Din's visor is now staring in through the shop window.

"I thought he could use some extra clothes. He wore out a tunic or two playing..."

True enough. He had more than a few rips in his clothes that needed to be stitched, and some of his clothing had been over-scrubbed due to mud.

"And The Crest isn't always warm..." Din understands what the real concern is. "Go ahead."

His hands are reaching out to lift the sling from her shoulders before Hanna even registers it. The kid s no heavy burden, but she smiles anyway while she watches him drape the sling over himself and adjust the straps. A squeal of happiness meets this change, and the kid maneuvers himself around to reach up and tap his claws against the shiny cuirass, delighting in the _ting ting ting. _

"Not coming with?"

"...I'll walk him around."

The kid doesn't complain, and Hanna knows he doesn't care what he wears either way. So she ducks into the shop to grab a few little tunics. He has hardly grown in the time she's known him (not noticeably anyway), which makes shopping simple.

Hanna does have to wonder at it, though. Could this possibly be the extent of his growth? While that is the most adorable possible future, she can't imagine a species could thrive independently if they stayed as small as he is. Unless _all_ of his people have his abilities...

She shakes the thoughts from her head and grabs the clothes she needs before checking out.

There's no point in worrying about his species or his longterm growth when they are more than a little busy dealing with the present. Surviving and safely locating the rest of the Mandalorian covert are more pressing problems to solve.

.

.

Back out in the street, it doesn't take her long to spot her current Mandalorian. The sleek shine of his helmet gives him away from a few dozen meters. She has to dodge a one-passenger trolly droid clipping along a little too fast, and she finds him turned in her direction and waiting for her once she gets to the other side of the street. The kid spots her, too, and he smiles wide and waves his hands around wildly like she'd been gone for ages.

"Maybe you're not so tired..." she catches one of his fingers to shake in greeting.

"He's a liar. He's fighting it," the helmet shakes back and forth knowingly.

"No surprise there..." Hanna lifts back the flap of the sling and pushes the small bag of clothes inside.

At once, the kid drives down after it to inspect his personal wares.

"Probably thinks it's food"

Hanna chuckles at his words; again, she doesn't disagree. They both know this child's antics.

"Is there anything else we still need to get?" his visor tilts just so to eye the large tote she'd slowly been filling from stores.

"Not out here. I didn't stop at the bulk vendor yet ...droids deliver the food, so I figured you'd want to be there"

Something like a _tutt _stutters through his helmet, but he nods and slips the bag from Hanna's elbow to hoist up over his own shoulder.

"I can-"

"I know"

"... ...or I can get the kid?" she reaches a hand for the sling.

"It's fine, " his free hand finds a place between her shoulders to usher her onward, and his fingers linger to slide down her back once she starts moving.

Hanna smiles and lets their arms brush lightly as they fall in step together.

So ..._oka_y! Maybe all is well. Maybe she really had just been anxious about venturing off the ship in a new place all over again. She had been so sure she felt something ..._else_, but this feels normal. It feels comfortable and real.

"Mmmm!"

Hanna looks over when the kid's head pops into sight, and now he's holding the new tunic bunched together in a ball and is rubbing the soft material under his chin with a lopsided smile.

"You like it?" she grins.

He waves it at her in both of his chibby fists and then tucks it up against his neck once more.

"Tired. Like I said," the Mandalorian recognizes the signs as well as she can and traces the tip of one green ear.

Neither of them get an answer, of course, only a small coo and a wiggle before the kid flops back down and out of sight.

Hanna's smile is wide before glancing up at the helmet beside her. She can't tell that he is smiling, too, but chooses to believe he is and doesn't bother to ask. She bumps his arm with her shoulder and says nothing more as they continue on their way.

.

.

The stop to order rations and then return to The Crest. By this time the kid has dozed off in the nest he created for himself in his sling, so Din is able to put him in his cubby for a nap without fuss. Then he stomps back down the ramp to pace around and wait for the trolly to show up with their frozen goods. He forbids the droid from coming into the ship for a more complete delivery, naturally, but Hanna helps bring everything into the ship despite him telling her he can do it on his own.

She hadn't expected a good mood during any of this, as his sour attitude towards droids being well-established. She'd failed to convinced him to give a single druggat about the old droids on Sorgan that helped people they liked, so there is no reason to expect he'd appreciate this droid's task. So she doesn't mind.

It's all just work.

Then they debate whether they need to stay planet-side for anything else. It would be nice, but is it necessary? They land on the conclusion that there's no reason to burn the money to pay docking fees for another 12 hours when they could start heading towards an actual destination.

So they both crawl up to the cockpit and he clears them for take-off and eventually sets course for Socorro.

.

That's just work, too. She knows it's not complicated - more muscle memory than challenge - but it's busy, so Hanna is content to sit back quietly and let him get it done. She watches the dull planet shrink away from them until they're overtaken by the now-familiar sights of space and racks her brain for anything she knows of Socorro. It ...doesn't ring a bell.

Not surprising.

She can always ask.

Except, slowly ...slowly she doesn't _want_ to anymore. The amicable silence between them fuzzes and becomes something else, and she can read tension in the Mandalorian's movements even though he's saying nothing. And, yes, she's long learned that he rarely starts up small talk just for the sake of it...but she doesn't think she's being paranoid, either.

It's a _pointed_ nothing.

She'd been confident and cozy about things an hour or so, but she once again feels sure there's something roiling around between them right now. Not an argument or a giant proverbial bantha in the corner. Just... something unsaid.

Something insidious.

Okay, maybe _that_ is paranoia but there's something and -

"Alright ...so what is it?" she blurts before she can let her thoughts curdle in her mind for too long.

It won't be the first difficult conversation for them. No point in clamming up now.

"Hmm?" the visor tilts up to give her attention.

"Something is wrong; I can tell. You seem upset again…" Hanna holds his gaze and wishes fervently that it wasn't difficult to do.

Only she doesn't like to call forth ire. In fact she's spent a lot of her life dispelling or otherwise avoiding anger...but this is different.

_He's _different.

She's well aware despite her twitchy toes.

There is a moment or two of hesitation before his chin twists a bit more. Not a natural tick of curiosity then. It's put on.

"I d-"

"Please don't tell me I'm crazy. I can see you're on edge..."

"You're not crazy. I … it's nothing."

But there's an _it_.

"What's nothing?"

He doesn't squirm because the Mandalorian doesn't squirm. But he adjusts the weight of his shoulders. And he turns back towards the viewing shield for a second while his pointer finger taps an uneven beat on the armrest of his seat.

"I'm not mad," he promises explicitly. "I'm ...confused."

"Okay..." Hanna deflates a little because they can deal with _confused_; confused sounds much better to her. "About?"

"...my name."

Oh. Hmm.

Well.

"You haven't said it," he finishes.

"I ... ...what do you mean?"

"Just what I said," there's perhaps a _touch_ of impatience in his tone now, still drumming that finger of his. "You won't use it."

Hanna blinks. He's not wrong. Not really. Maybe she's just not used knowing it. Or...

"I guess I didn't know you wanted me to…"

He cranks his neck back toward her, then.

"I told you I didn't want to take it back," he's defensive about it in tone, too.

"Well, yeah, I know ...yeah," Hanna nods, for that had been a big moment for her, as well. "But you gave me some pretty specific rules about using it."

He doesn't argue back, just tilts his head. Maybe replaying the conversation. The way he'd talked about danger and last resorts.

"So I just thought … ...well, I just assumed-"

"You're right," he's flatter again.

"No. I should've asked…" Hanna agrees, for it it seems obvious, now, why he might want to hear it after finally telling someone. "It's not like I forgot or anything, I p-"

"Stop," he shakes his helmet back and forth. "You're right...I put stipulations on it."

"Still. I don't want you to think I didn't appreciate ...or that I don't care"

"I don't," his shoulders relax and she can't help but guess that maybe he _did_ think that for a moment. Maybe two. "I know you care…"

He turns back to his console, but Hanna smiles at this admission and the way he's made it so offhandedly. Like it's obvious.

Hopefully it has been for a while.

.

"...you could have told me sooner," she gripes a little anyway, but only because it's true.

"Well...it's not a big deal. I just ...wondered"

Hanna is sure he says that on reflex. Still, she frowns.

"I don't believe that"

"Mmm"

"... ...Din," she shoots for his attention and feels a little giddy finally using the name herself.

His faceplate makes a jerk in her direction, but he stops and finishes turning his head towards her much slower.

"...it is kind of a big deal."

Maybe she shouldn't. Maybe she should let him have it, sitting over there calm and quiet like it's just another discussion. But she's feeling awfully relieved and has a suspicion that he is, too. If he truly wants to insist ...fine. She'll let him.

But he nods slowly.

"...can...I come sit with you?"

His head slants, then he glances quickly at his lap and kicks for the pedal to free his chair from it's locked position so he slide back a foot or so.

"Yes"

Hanna pops up on eager feet and crosses the space between their seats. She's not sure if it will be easier to straddle him or sit across his lap, but when she's within arm reach it becomes apparent he's already formed an opinion on that matter. He snatches her thighs so he can haul her straight in, and she half-climbs, half-stumbles into his lap.

She's not a teensy alien. There's not a plethora of extra room for her, but her knees squeeze in to slot around him. It's comfortable enough, if not roomy.

Hanna grins. Brushes her nose over the center of his T-visor.

"...do you feel better?" by now her hands can easily find the spaces between his armor and straps to get at muscle and knead into either side of his neck.

"...yes…" he cups her head and tilts it in so he can rub his forehead properly against hers.

"Good ...you can tell me what you want, you know?"

One of his hands fists in her shirt, now. The other slides past the hem to stroke slowly up her spine.

"I know that," he agrees.

There's probably "_but_" floating somewhere. She should snatch it out of the air and be done with it - address it now while they're on topic. But she's already pressed a little. Besides, she frets over exposing herself more sometimes, too, and it's fair to say she's a little more practiced.

"I'd wondered if you ...were annoyed about earlier," she'll share, too. "When we were having sex," she clarifies when he makes no answer or inquiry.

His hands pause their movements momentarily.

"I'm not annoyed with sex"

Noted.

Hanna grins and presses her thumbs harder into his muscles, hoping for a grunt or groan she doesn't get.

"That's good...I just mean because it was our first time since ...since Sorgan," they both know what she means so she's not sure why she bothers hesitating. "I thought maybe you ...wondered why I didn't ask you to take your helmet off again."

"Oh," his hand doesn't stop this time, just continues to draw patterns on her back. "_No_ ...you've never minded."

_Never_ is a stretch, but yeah. Ultimately.

"..._did_ you want me to?" he goes on,

She rolls a shoulder in a shrug.

"I can't pretend I haven't thought about it …"

"Oh really?" his hands falls from pulling at her shirt to drop onto her thigh and squeeze.

She flicks the bottom ridge of his helmet for teasing.

"You don't?"

"Oh I do," he assures her, squeezing one more time. "...but I don't want to blindfold you all the time..."

"Hmm, good - because I like looking at you," Hanna smirks and earns a huff that has nothing to do with her hands. "But is it still on the table sometimes? ...when we have the space and time? If it's not, that's -"

"It is," he cuts off her back peddling. "...when we have the space and time."

"I'd like that," Hanna imagines she looks a little lecherous with the confession, but she's unconcerned. "But I am used to it," she kisses his visor again, "so no pressure."

True he's taken off his helmet with her a couple times of his own volition, but asking _\- prompting it_ \- still feels like something else. Another intimacy. Almost too much.

"Don't worry ...there's a few places I'd like to have my mouth again..."

Hanna blinks at this bold pronouncement and knows she _is_ blushing.

"Oh really?" she quotes him back at himself.

"Mmhmm...it's not easy when I need to keep my mouth to myself," he doubles down.

Hanna wants to blurt out that she never thought it was easy. To reassure him. But _he's_ the one teasing so she reels in the twinge that nags at her when she feels she's nearing impertinence.

"Well well well ...time and space?" Hanna makes a show of glancing over her shoulder through the duraglass at all the stars. "Looks like we have plenty of space…"

His hand skims quickly around her ribs to graze down over her flank in an effective tickle she can't escape. Hanna hates herself a little for the way she violently twitches, giving up to her sensitivity much easier than he does.

"Rude…"

He huffs a small laugh but quits and doesn't exploit the touch. He eases back onto the seat and pulls Hanna along to settle against him. And _that_ feels better.

It feels right.

No tension.

Or, well. _Less_ tension. They are still in a precarious situation, but ...not right now.

The kid might be up soon, so time might be questionable, but she'd been serious: they have the space to themselves for now.

.

"...anything up here we can use as a blindfold?" she raises a brow.

The way his fingers respond by curling to dig into her spine makes her squirm.

" We're entering the next atmosphere in..." he glances at the console behind her. "Ten. Then we'll find something…"

Hanna nods and hugs herself close.

"Ten minutes is probably long enough to tell me about all those places you'd like to put your mouth, right?"

_Yes_, she's blushing, but honesty is working for them today.

"_Rangir_…"

Hanna doesn't catch what falls from his mouth but gets the gist of it when he circles his arms around her and her orientation shifts until he is folding forward to the floor.

"Din!" Hanna arches up of the floor when her back meets cold steel due to her rucked up shirt.

She's only met with his weight pressing her back down, which she can't really complain about even if she does shiver. A contrasting warm hand flattens over her eyes, and a couple moments later his mouth is on hers. Wet and hot and rushed.

Not the soft brush of lips they snuck in her bunk. Not brand new kisses that made her sad like they had in Sorgan.

Something firm and more sure. Maybe a little frantic, even. The kiss turns deep quick and Hanna clings to him so he won't retreat too soon.

But he does retreat. And when his hand peels off of her face, his helmet is back in place as if it had never left.

"Armor," he nods - to her? To himself? - and starts loosening his chest plate.

Hanna laughs and sits up to help. She hasn't figured out how it all comes undone - _a wrong she'll need to right soon_ \- but gets to work on a pauldron.

.

There's only the rustling of this work for a few long moments.

"So you're not going to use the time to tell me?" she goads him.

"...I'll show you instead," he mutters and slings off his cuirass.

Well. She can't hate that.

"What about…?" she glances up at the dash.

"It can wait"

Hanna bites her lip against a playful admonishment lest he decide to take her serious and tease her right back in the drollest possible way. That just wouldn't do. Waiting seems foreign and unnecessary; she wants his mouth back on hers and will enjoy lying back to see where else he would like to use it.

They do have the damn time. For now.


	23. Quick and Careful

_Hi all - sorry if you got a notification for this chapter twice (OR maybe you didn't?) I posted chapter 23 yesterday, and I know a couple people somehow saw it, but then I was told the update didn't show (thanks .2020!). Sure enough, I looked around and it was just showing up with 22 chapters...so that's a mystery!_

_Hopefully this re-post shows up just fine :) *fingers crossed*_

**Chapter 23: ****Careful and Quick**

Hanna exits the sonic shower and ruffles a hand through her long, dry hair. It's clean, yes, but she's always liked a hot water shower best. Maybe she'll work on the water circulator in the bathroom next. There might be a displaced heating element. Or it could be missing altogether. If that's the case, sonics will just have to do for now - no need to spend the money on a luxury.

Plan in mind, she redresses and putters out to the kitchenette, where Din is sitting at the table with the kiddo.

Well, to be precise, the kid is standing. _ Right there_ on the table like that's polite behavior. He has dried meat (aka: breakfast) in one hand and his other hand is wrapped around the man's bare finger. He's examining the digit and babbling between his chompings.

"Oh yeah?" Din murmurs when the kid shoves a last chunk into his mouth, giving him a second to insert a word.

The kid chews and waves his empty hand at the man for more food.

"Get it yourself - go on. Right here," Din points at the small, nearby plate.

The kid chirps before dropping Din's finger and condescending to take three steps to pick his own jerky. There, he plops down nice and close to the food and resumes his speech.

"Learning something?"

"A whole education," he tilts his faceplate up to her as she enters fully.

The kid turns and flashes her some teeth after he hears her, then promptly buries those teeth into some meat for his next bite.

"What's he telling you about?" Hanna takes a seat, too, and steals a piece of jerky before the kid can slide the plate around his other side and away from her.

"Manners ...but I don't think he has a moral high ground there…"

Hanna snickers but agrees. The kid's manners are lacking somewhat when it comes to dining.

"Maybe we need to work on etiquette…"

"Good luck"

"Thanks so much," she bumps DIn's shoulder with her own. "And thanks for getting him this morning."

She'd heard the baby wake up, babbling and cooing in his happy morning way, and had _not_ wanted to leave her bunk. But Din had already been awake; she'd watched his booted feet clomp in to fetch the kid and whisk him away, affording her a little extra time to lay curled up in bed.

"That was no trouble…"

"Still," she rests her chin on his shoulder. "...I think I'm going to take a hard look at the water heater in the fresher today."

His shoulders shake while he quietly laughs so Hanna straightens up off of him.

"Missing a hot shower?"

_Uh._ _Yes_. She hasn't had one since Kuiil's.

"Don't you?"

"Mmm...Sonics are faster. But yes," he admits.

"Then don't mock"

"I'm not…"

"Mmhmm...if I can get the real shower fixed, maybe we can take one together," she proposes while trying to reach over the kid for another snack.

"That -" he twists his face upward again. "Yeah, we should do that…"

Hanna smiles and leans into his arm again.

Then she promptly gives up on taking more food from the kid - never mind that _she_ shares with _him _all the time. In triumph, he clicks his little claws at her.

That's cuter than it has any right to be, and she shouldn't laugh so she gets up from the table to gather her own breakfast. Behind her, the boy promptly resumes his educational lecture. She can only assume he's moved on from discussing manners - he's proven that he has so few this morning

She stays at the counter near the food-prep machine in order to let the boys have their time. The kiddo chattering. The Mandalorian nodding along and supervising his not toppling off of the table.

It's adorable.

It also feels important.

Not to mention insurmountably _good. _

.

"Do you need me to take him so you can grab breakfast?" she checks once she's downed her own small meal.

"No. I ate."

"Okay ...do you need the fresher? If not, I'm going to start dismantling and looking around…"

"Go for it"

"...eager?" she smirks.

He only shrugs to that, but Hanna laughs anyway. The kid smiles at the sounds, so Hanna throws him a wink, too. He tries to reciprocate and fails, which makes her laugh a little more.

"You know where to find me…"

In the shitter.

A super special day to look forward to, no doubt.

.

.

A couple hours later, Hanna has paneling ripped off of the bottom section of the wall to investigate what's going on around the plumbing. All the while, her toes are crossed for an easy fix and a hot shower…

Until the ship takes an unexpected lurch that sends her careening forward.

She falls face-first into the wall opening, and her cheek stings from smashing up against a pipe.

"What the…" she catches her balance and shoves herself away from the wall and to her feet.

She realizes too late that she should've stayed low because a second sharp swerve has her stumbling into the doorway, where she jams a couple fingers in an attempt to catch herself.

"Maker…"

"Hold onto something-" the Mandalorian's voice crackles over the dicey sound system.

Yeah. _Clearly_.

More information would also be nice, but he says no more.

There's nothing in the bathroom that would be great to hold onto. She imagines the thick ballast out in the hold would provide an ideal hold for anchoring herself, but the aircraft quakes again and she's not so sure she'd make it out there safely.

So Hanna dives into the shower stall to hunker down and brace herself between the cramped walls.

The ship continues to weave and shake unsteadily, and Hanna can hear screeching against the walls. It doesn't take too long to realize someone must be firing at them.

A pirate?

A _hunter_? Are they being purposefully pursued?

It seems like too much to hope for a coincidence at this point...

.

Hanna's heart races an angry beat. She pictures all sorts of horrible things. Exploding any second. Plummeting through space. Someone docking and boarding the ship, unwelcome and with horrible intentions. She recalls the way Din had torn through StormTroopers back in Nevarro ...would he have the space and luck to do the same if someone tried to take over the ship?

_Kriff_.

She tries not to let these wild ideas take hold. Tries to focus on anything else. But every time the ship teeters that effort is rendered impossible.

.

Then the momentum of the ship swings violently and she slams against the back wall of the shower despite her efforts to keep herself braced steady.

.

Hanna's dazed from the speed of it…

But the ship's gone still, now.

.

It's a moment or two before she trusts the floor will indeed stay level, but then she stumbles to her feet and toward the door.

To find answers.

To make sure everyone's alright.

T hat they're going to_ be _alright_. _

She has no idea if it's good or ominous that she's not receiving another update through the intercom system.

"Din!" she shouts for him after emerging from the fresher and twisting around the corner.

She is steps away from the ladder when he drops into sight, and she practically skids into him.

"Are you okay?" he grabs her by the shoulders before she can begin to demand answers.

"Yeah," she nods despite the way she shrugs his hand off of the arm that had slammed into the metal walls, so she adds, "I'll probably bruise. Did-"

She cringes when one of his fingers prods her cheekbone where it had scraped against piping.

"It's nothing," she bats his hand away. "What was all of that?"

He heaves a great sigh and his helmet shifts up and down, continuing to rove a visual assessment over her. When he's content, he drops his hands.

"Another hunter caught our trail…".

"_What_? How?"

Could they have been followed from the last port even though nothing had appeared suspicious? Could one of those tracking fobs pinpoint them while traveling through space? If so, how were they ever going to slow down?

She has far too many questions. And none of the answers that suggest themselves are comforting.

"He recognized my ship signature. Walshe ...I've worked with him before," his explanation is dark and agitated.

_Kriff_.

"So, what is … ...what does that mean?"

"...it means we have to find somewhere to get repairs," he glances up the ladder, likely already thinking of browsing his maps. "The starboard engine was damaged. We have to make the stop..."

"I meant -"

"I know," his voice is soft enough that she's not _quite_ annoyed that he's cut her off. "But I don't have an answer for that yet."

That's a big admission. Hanna knows she'd love to delve deep into the topic until they find a strategy she likes...but now isn't the best time. Safe landing first. Then repairs. Then a plan.

"...where are we going to go?"

"We'll see what's closest. C'mon…"

He ushers her ahead with a hand on her back. She discerns she's not welcome to stay down here to continue her work and ...she's not offended. She'd rather stick close for a little while, too.

.

In the cockpit, she goes straight for the kid, who is seated in his sling where it's been strapped to a seat back; there, he's high enough to see out the transparisteel window but is secure and unable to get at the dash. The set up had been Din's doing a couple days ago.

"Hi buddy," she plucks him out so she can sit.

She buckles up for good measure, too.

"I...think he thought that was fun…"

Hanna snorts at this annoyed observation. The kid doesn't always recognize danger, so she doesn't doubt it.

Din takes a seat as well and pulls up a map while she runs an engine diagnostic.

"Tatooine…"

"Have you ever been?" Hanna looks up from her read-out.

"...yes."

This announcement doesn't sound too pleased.

"And?"

"Well. It's ...not _ideal_."

Hanna lets the kid get comfy on her leg, waiting to see if Din will go on. Surely he knows he can't just leave it at that.

"What's wrong with Tatooine?" she presses when he remains silent after setting their course.

The ship is a bit slower than usual and slightly off-balance, but lift stays relatively steady. That's a good sign for now.

"Probably nothing," he sounds more sure now that he's had the time to collect his thoughts. "It's ...just not known for safety."

Hanna feels her eyes widen despite wanting to be a reliable compatriot.

"It's fine," he is coddling her now, she thinks.

"Don't. It's okay. Just be honest"

He nods.

"...Mos Eisley is their main port and our best bet for quick work. It's not necessarily known to be welcoming, but the Guild doesn't operate there anymore so we should be alright."

"...okay, that's nice. So no one will recognize you right?"

"Yes. The work became less lucrative after the war. Tatooine was a Hutt stronghold once, so that always drew a dicy crowd."

"Maker…"

"But once the family toppled there and the tide of the war shifted….well," he hesitates and heaves a sigh. "I hear it's less dirty than it once was."

"Not clean, though?"

"Definitely not," he confirms, but he is at least facing her head on while he does it and she appreciates that. "We won't stay longer than we need to"

Alright.

Not great. But they can manage that.

Din's familiar with the place, which is an advantage even if the planet _isn't ideal_. And she can help with needed repairs, so maybe their stay will be short and sweet.

It's nice to hope for.

"...are we going to be able afford repairs?" She touches the next important-but-not-so-optimistic point.

He grunts and readjusts to lean back in his seat.

"I doubt it…."

"I can help with the work. That should get us a discount..."

Pilots who insisted on helping back at Castilian always had a lighter bill, saving in both labor expenses and dock fees.

"Even so…" he confesses. "But I'll find some work, too."

"I thought the Guild wasn't here anymore?" Hanna narrows her eyes.

He can't work for them anyway, right? He wouldn't risk it.

"That usually doesn't matter ...I've picked up plenty of side jobs and non-Guild work on all sorts of planets while traveling."

This fact is the hdight of intrigue.

Hanna grins despite the circumstances.

"Do you just walk around with a sign that says : _Mercenary for Hire_?"

His scoff is light and she imagines he's smirking. She itches to feel it for herself, but now isn't the time.

"Honestly? The armor is it's own advertisement to some people … body guard. Maybe a bounty retrieval. Some kind of bully for hire …"

"...bully for hire, huh?"

He inclines his head and wobbles his hand back and forth in an _"eh" _way.

"I'm usually picky with freelance jobs. I can't really afford to be conservative right now, though…"

Hanna doesn't like the sound of that at all. While she appreciates the sentiment that he'll stretch himself for her and the kid, she isn't a fan of this self-justifying tone in his words. This "_do whatever it takes"_ mentality she knows he has.

"We don't need to take risks though"

"I _might_," he disagrees.

Hanna sighs.

"Din…"

She had assumed she would get cut-off, so she hadn't planned the rest of her sentence beyond sounding exasperated with him. He's not heading her off with a rebuttal, however. He's just twisted his gaze around to wait.

Expectant.

The fact that he's pausing to hear her out when this topic is decidedly _his_ expertise doesn't escape her.

"I just ...don't want you to get hurt"

It sounds lame to say. Needless. _Of course_ she doesn't want anything to happen to him. Surely he doesn't either. It just sounds ominous, what he's saying. Not that it's a newsflash his work is dangerous…

But he doesn't scoff again or tell her she's _nagging_. He only nods in response.

.

**"This is Mos Eisley Tower. We're tracking you. Head for bay 3-5. Over,"** an air traffic scanner's voice crackles over the ship's radio system when they enter orbit.

"Copy that," Din's ready for it and slows their descent as the ground beneath them becomes clearer. "Bay 35…"

The planet is a reddish tan as they head in.

_Desert_.

Thinking of Arvala-7, Hanna can't help that she sneers at the looming scape. Naturally every planet can't be beautiful and welcoming like Sorgan, but she doesn't think she can be blamed for resenting dry, hot sand. She's had her fill of that, _thanks_.

So she watches without enthusiasm as they pass by.

All is tan. With an occasional light hovel or darker brown spire to break up the monotony.

.

She only perks up when something white pricks out of the blanket of beige. She straightens up and cranes her neck at the domed ...something.

It's only properly in view for a few seconds and then it has flicked by.

"...moisture farm," Din supplies, much less interested, when she twists like she'll be able to look back at it.

"Hmmm…"

"What?"

"...nothing."

She doesn't sound convincing to her own ears, but ...it _is_ nothing. There had been exactly zilch interesting to see near the sandstone structure.

"..._what it is_?"

"I don't know. That ...I guess that place seemed familiar."

Which is stupid because she's never been there. She can name all the planets she's been to; she wouldn't just forget one.

"Kuiil had similar equipment," he suggests.

"Yeah, I guess…"

And that is true. Kuiil had pointed out and tried to educate her on the equipment he used to hydrate himself and his beasts. Truthfully, the talk had bored her. But she'd seen the set-up.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing"

"...Hanna?"

She looks over to catch his eye, through not for long because they're nearing a canyon and he needs eyes front and focused.

"I don't know, alright?" she slouches down. "I just thought ... I'm not even sure what I thought. It's nothing, though."

She probably sounds kooky now. Awesome.

Maybe she is just thinking of Kuiil's farm. She _would _like to see him again; maybe the desert had pulled his memory forth from the back of her mind. For a moment she wonders what it would be like to visit him ...if it would even be a smart choice. She wonders, also, if he ever thinks of her and the kid and whether his temporary Mandalorian friend had turned them over. He had _known_ the kid was something special, and he'd been kind to her ...it would be nice to go back.

"You're sure?"

Din's voice pulls her back to the present, and she twists to smile something reassuring in his direction.

"Yes"

_Probably_.

"...you'd tell me if something was bothering you?"

Sure. If she can ever figure out what it is.

But they'd had this conversation before so she doesn't crawl down into the minutia of understanding exactly what she's feeling.

Or _felt_. The sense of familiarity having been so fleeting.

"Yeah. I will."

"Alright," he nods and focuses again to sink the ship into a valley where city streets sprawl before them. "Alright ...35, 35…."

.

As they drop unevenly into the repair bay, Hanna collects herself once again. This is not a repair port run by the hulking Kyuzo she'd once known. She doesn't need to be nervous. Instead, she should be pleased to be in such a familiar setting with parts and procedures she knows so well.

Even so, she sticks close to Din's shoulder when they descend the ramp, and she keeps the sling at her back because ...well, just until they can see what they're working with.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she elbows the man when he draws his blaster on the pit droids that jog forward.

The trio of droids clamber into each other in their rush to stop. Half-mollified, Din cuts his dark gaze to her but doesn't put away his weapon.

"They're just doing their job"

He sighs and stares at the chattering bots again.

"...not a step closer."

The pace of their inter-dialog increases until Din tucks the gun back into his belt. Then they just cock their domed heads at him like they've never met someone quiet like him. For sure, it's probably rare that a pilot lands and doesn't want them to carry-out their primary function.

"Care to tell me what's the big idea? Huh?"

Hanna jumps and her eyes pop off of the droids to scan the area. She ignores Din's dark visor watching her in favor of locating the owner of the abrupt questions.

Said speaker turns out to be a short statured woman with a mess of curly locks and a bent scowl. Hanna relaxes. Doesn't even hold the frown against the woman; she would probably frown, too, if someone had almost fired on her droids.

"Hi"

The woman's eyes narrow to slits and she glances between Hanna and Din. Back and forth.

Whatever calculation she does apparently tells her the Mandalorian is in charge, never mind Hanna had been the one to greet her.

"So?" she demands in a way that makes the corner of Hanna's mouth twitch.

"No droids"

The woman '_harumfs' _ and plants her fists on her hips.

"You think that's a good idea, do you? The state of this ship…"

She starts marching a circle around the Crest, and Hanna is quick to follow. She's already run the internal diagnostics but is keen to see the damage firsthand. She doesn't need the other mechanic's commentary of visible issues, but she listens closely and keeps a running tally of the relative costs of each. While doing so, she also mentally crosses off any repairs that aren't strictly essential.

Cost issues aside, it's a good list. Thorough but not over-reaching.

.

"And you plan for all that getting done without droids, _huh_? You planning to get a room at the Inn?" the woman comes to a stop back where they started and blinks her eyes at the Mandalorian in a would-be-innocent way.

"She'll help you," he juts a finger at Hanna.

"Oh yeah?" she's not at all afraid to cast the same appraising eye she's used on the Crest onto Hanna. "And you are…?"

"Hanna," she reaches out a hand. "I've worked in a couple repair docks, so I'm happy to help."

The woman hesitates on the handshake. Casts a side-eye to the Mandalorian. Then back to Hanna.

"You're a mechanic letting him travel around with all this desecration?"

"It's ...been a strange few weeks."

A strange _year_.

But whatever.

"...a dogfight or two based on that carbon scoring."

She looks suspicious, though Hanna can't imagine she's truly preparing to turndown paid work.

"That's none of your business," Din finally pipes up against her again.

Hanna watches the woman's eyes widen and her shoulders straighten up, so Hanna interjects.

"I know. I've been trying to keep him under control," she pats his arm fondly and proceeds to ignore the look he levels down on her.

The woman scoffs .

_But_ she also nods.

"Looks like you're going to have to try harder," she gripes and now extends her own open palm. "Peli Motto."

"Nice to meet you," Hanna takes hold and returns the firm shake.

"...good grip," Peli holds on to give her hand one more jostle than necessary or generally polite. "Maybe you do know what to do with a wrench...alright, Mandalorian," she drops the embrace and turns still-bored eyes upward again. "You'll get your repairs as long as you can afford it."

"...I've got 500 Imperial credits to start."

"Oh..._to start_, huh? I've heard that before," she rolls her eyes and ends them on Hanna. "You've heard that before, am I right?"

_Yes_. But someone else always dealt with anyone who tried to help themselves to discounts.

"He's good for it," she promises.

"That's a classic, too," she crosses her arms in front of her chest and purses her lips before looking Din up and down like she's running some more calculations.

Probably weighing which is worse: losing credits if he can't pay in-full or pissing off a Mandalorian by refusing service upfront.

"Look," he fishes a pouch off his belt and tosses it to her. "Get started with what you can. I'll find work."

"I'll bet," Peli arches an eyebrow. "You some assassin?"

Hanna's surprised by her candor.

"... ...you get assassins passing through?" Din tilts his chin.

"Do you know _where you are_, Mando?"

"Any assassins _recently_?" he amends.

Peli snorts.

"_Probably_. Who knows?" she sounds shockingly unconcerned while she weighs the small bag of credits in her greasy-smudged hand. "Ain't gonna cover much more than dock fees…"

"Just get started," he instructs again.

"Fine. Fine. _Your_ debt problem," she raises her hands in innocence and backs-off. "Oy!" she stops, foot hovering briefly in the air. "Whattcha got?"

Hanna had felt the kid moving around silently in the sling but now feels his claws through the sleeve of her shirt. Twisting, she sees that he's climbed up the strap of the sling and is now clinging to her shoulder for a better look around.

"That's not your business either"

"He's alright," Hanna watches a familiar look seeping into the other woman's eyes to replace her alarm. "He's just a kid…"

"Huh," this huff from Peli is higher than the rest, less sassy, and a grin is tilting at her lips finally. "You're kinda cute, aren'tcha?"

The kid's answering coo makes Peli's eyes crinkle.

Hanna chuckles. Part relieved, part proud.

"We'll be alright," she looks up to assure Din.

He doesn't respond but inclines his head towards the door in a silent invitation so she'll follow him several feet away for semi-privacy.

"I need to find work; I'm going to hit a couple places I'm familiar with. Someone will know something…"

Hanna wonders if he feels as sure as he sounds, or if the confidence is for her. Or perhaps Peli's needling has emboldened his resolve.

She decides not to ask. To trust him on this one.

"Alright. Be careful."

"I will"

"Are you ...coming back to let me know you got a job? Or should I just expect you to be gone a long time?"

She's not sure what "a long time" is, but her insides squirm at the open-ended proposition.

Din pauses like he hadn't considered this, so she's glad she asked rather than assume one way or the other. She knows he doesn't usually have someone to answer to or check-in with on jobs, and while coming back here first would be a comfort _to her_ maybe it would serve as a distraction to him. If he needs to focus then maybe he shouldn' -

"I'll come back," he elects.

A smile sneaks up on her face before she can school it.

"Thanks…"

"Mmhmm," his nod is more curt. "Don't leave this dock."

"Right. Well...what about parts? I don't know if she has deals with vendors, but I might be able to haggle if I go," she glances back at Peli. "...what do you think?"

She's not sure just how much he'd smoothed-over the state of Mos Eisley when they'd been discussing Tatooine's history. He knows better here. She'll trust his appraisal even if it costs them some credits.

"...only go if she goes out, too," he appraises. "Grab a gun. Hide the kid."

"Okay"

"I'll try to be quick"

"...but careful."

He inclines his head in concession, then reaches a finger towards the kid who is playing with her hair.

"Behave?"

He gets some babbling in turn and the tip of his finger squeezed in a tiny palm, the best equivalent to a handshake he's capable of.

"Hopefully that's a yes…"

"I'm sure," Din sounds a little doubtful but pulls his eyes from the kid anyway; he pushes his hand past him, too, and cups the back of Hanna's neck. "Keep your eyes open."

"Mmhmm," she hums, then gives a soft smile when he ducks his head to tap his forehead against hers.

"Quick," he reminds her.

"_Careful_."

That's much more important to her. Does she want him to take ages? No. But coming back with all of his arms and legs seems more important. She'll be busy here with Peli and her now-jittery droids. He can take his time as long as they get what they need.

The kid waves when Din turns and slips out the arched stone doorway, which is cute even if the Mandalorian can't see it.

"He'll be right back, buddy"

He prattles something at her and nuzzles her cheek, so he must not be too concerned.

"So, uh," Peli calls attention back to herself and gestures between Hanna and the empty doorway. "...how does _that_ all work?"

.

.

.

It's an interesting afternoon of cataloging the extent of the Crest's injuries and debating what takes priority. Peli insists she understands thrift, but she also puts her foot down that she is a completionist. A job well done needs to be _done_.

Only _done_ is done.

Leaving less dire repairs for later is not _done_.

In the end Hanna has to pull rank a little bit. True she doesn't actually have a rank, but by declaring herself the Mandalorian's second-in-command (which probably makes the kid third, which is very questionable indeed) Peli accepts that the customer gets to be right sometimes. _Sometimes_.

Though this doesn't mean the spunky mechanic isn't grumbling about it.

But Hanna doesn't mind.

She likes Peli despite the woman's less-than-hospitable first showing. She probably gets all sorts rolling through trying to throw their weight around, and she has to hold her own to run her business. Hanna gets that.

Peli had shown herself to be unafraid right off the bat, but as they get down to the work she is also pragmatic, if cynical. She quizzes Hanna a bit by spouting incorrect information until the younger woman corrects her, and after that she seems to accept that they can work together.

.

As Din is the sole owner of the Razor Crest, Hanna follows his wishes and says the "no droids" rule will have to stay.

Peli continues to make her thoughts known on this matter.

However, Din had not requested the bots not pull any babysitting duty, so ….

The kid is enamored with them, and after Peli promised they'd never so much as hurt a sand fly without her asking them to first, Hanna lets the kid out of the sling to toddle around with the pit droids. The trio seem confused by this until Peli tells them to calm down about it and make sure he doesnt't get into any trouble. At first they understand this to mean they should pluck the kid up by his robe and run him back to Hanna any time he takes a step in the direction of the door, which of course the kid finds to be a hilarious game. With some more specific parameters they seem to accept their new duty and sit at the foot of the Crest with him rolling sprocket wheels back and forth.

.

In decent time, the women decide on a list of parts to purchase and Peli agrees that Hanna can tag along rather than send the droids because, yes, some of her regular vendors will strike deals from time to time. Peli had been skeptical until Hanna assured her that she was familiar with Outer Rim rates; then she'd just nodded with one last _"fine but don't slow me down_."

Hanna's heading into the ship to fetch a gun, as promised, when Din bustles back through the entrance only to skid to a stop at the domestic display before him.

The pit droids spring to their feet but then freeze as they process the fact that the Mandalorian's previous dismissal of them does not compute with their instructions to stay with the kid. They jitter in indecision while he stares from them, to the baby, to Hanna where she's standing on the ramp.

"What? He wanted to play and they had nothing to do…" she raises her hands. "We've been nearby the whole time. They're actually really attentive."

She can't actually hear his sigh from where she's at, but she can _feel_ it.

Then he marches back into motion. One of the droids compacts itself to hide under it's lid with a dull _clang_ on the floor while the other two stay stock still, only bibbling at each other once Din scoops the kid up and passes them by.

"No, don't follow him!" Hanna hears Peli shout. "Leave 'im alone; he's alright for now...and go on and get up, you!"

She chuckles, but Din doesn't join-in.

"Pit droids really are harmless, you know. He had fun with them," she follows along when he sweeps past. "And I wasn't far. We-"

"It's fine"

"...yeah?"

"They're _pit droids_."

Hanna doesn't think the disdain in his tone is especially necessary. They're base as far as bots go, and these ones are a fairly old model besides, but dead useful. Still, he's agreeing that they aren't a threat and she'll take that as luck.

"Alright ...so if they kid's fussy with the sling you don't mind if they…?" she glances back out the bay door.

He does, too.

"...as long as you're there."

"Of course, yeah... don't think I would want them all alone with him..."

Not with how incredibly specific Peli says she sometimes has to be with them.

"Then it's fine … ...it would be hard for you two to get much done otherwise," Din seems to understand and presses the kid back to her hands.

Hanna watches him make a beeline for the weapons cache mounted on the far wall, where he stocks another gun and a couple more knives onto his person.

"So I guess you found a job…"

"Yes"

Short.

To the point.

Very business-like.

"That's ….good, right?"

"Mmm. Yes," he spares her a glance after saying so and looks her up and down. "...what were you coming in here for?"

"To grab a gun actually," Hanna's not sure why she feels silly interrupting his own work to say so when she knows he has _plenty_ of firearms to go around. "Peli and I were going to head out."

"Right…" he tosses her Cara's old holster. "Which do you want?"

"...whichever one you usually hand me?"

He stares her down a moment. Hanna imagines he's going to scold her and promise that he'll make sure she has a knowledgeable preference soon, but he doesn't make any comment. Just disappears behind the door and emerges with a blaster she assumes is familiar to her hands.

She can't tell by looking. They're mostly the same to her. _Oops_.

He brings it to her and takes the holster from her hand to slip the weapon inside, and then he starts unbuttoning the front of her pants.

A thing he has definitely never done while the kid is _in her hands_!

.

It's a second before she remembers he had told her this holster fits inside the waistband for subtlety

"Okay, okay!" she stops him with one hand and extends the kid back to him with the other before he can grab onto her belt loops. "I can do it…"

She, uh, never _has_ done it before, but she knows how to problem solve.

And far be it from her to stop Din from being helpful, but he needs to take his silent, singleminded efficiency somewhere else. It's making her nervous. She's seen this part of him and knows it makes him good at what he does, but standing here it's just serving to remind her that he's readying to slip away into the bowels of a city he himself has admitted is dark and questionable…

"So...this job?" she checks, then glances up from her side when he doesn't offer the requested information. "...Din?"

"It's a job"

How vague.

How ominous.

This being semi-novel territory, she's not sure if too many questions will irritate him or what "too many" would be in the first place. But it's probably a good time to find out. If they're going to be scouring the galaxy together, this isn't going to be the first "side gig" he has to venture off for.

"Did you find it where you thought you would?"

"...not exactly."

Even more ominous.

"Could you say more than that? ...please…"

She's not worried. She's _not_…

"I ran into someone with Guild work"

"What?" Hanna abandons the holster altogether to stare at him.

_Why_ aren't they hightailing it out of here? Well ...they can't. Not safely. She knows that. But why is he so calm?

"He doesn't know anything about me. Or _us_," Din hurries on. "...he's not _in_ the Guild. Not yet. He has a job from them, but it's like an initiation. More like a suicide mission for someone so inexperienced…"

"But-"

"Here," Din pulls at the empty sling still hanging over her shoulders and lowers the kid gently into it so he can take over with the holster.

"Wait," Hanna grabs hold of his wrist to stop him. "You can't work for the Guild, right?"

He brushes her hand off.

"They'll never know. He just needs help - even _he_ knows he's in over his head," Din explains and works the straps with deft fingers; lighter this time, less grabby. "He's not worried about the money. He just needs to deliver the bounty to get into the Guild, and he'll pay _me_ for the help. If he ever dares to admits he didn't do it on his own and figures out who I am ...it'll be too late."

Okay.

Hanna runs through this explanation again and likes it all. Except for one detail:

"You called it a _suicide mission_"

Din glances up. Meets her eye.

"For _him_"

"... ...uh-huh, so it's simple for you?"

He hesitates. Then tips his head down to finish a snap on the holster.

"I should've shown you how to do this before..." he takes hold of her hand to brush it over where the gun is now secured tight at her side. "It'll be hard for anyone but you to get at even if you don't wear a jacket to cover it…"

"Yeah... but you didn't answer me," she shoves his shoulder with her other hand.

He _still_ puts off answering while he rebuttons her pants. Even swats her hand away so he can zip them, too.

"...it's not a job I would've chosen," he admits, then.

She appreciates the honesty but also sort of wants to throttle him.

"Why not?"

"...it's not going to be an easy target."

This from the man who'd _chased a sandcrawler through the desert_? Maker_,_ but that felt like ages ago.

"Then maybe it's not worth it. Can-"

"I'm not going in alone"

"...yeah, but you basically said he's an idiot!"

That's ...an over exaggeration. Maybe this newbie is nice. Great, even. But it's clear he's not an equal partner.

"The Guild wouldn't give him a puck if he was completely inept," the Mandalorian walks back his first statement. "It's just his first _real_ job and he doesn't know what to expect. At worst he's an extra body. An extra set of eyes. I can teach him…"

Hmmm. She can't forget how he'd helped teach a village of inexperienced farmers how to defend their homes and wage battle. _They'd_ won. Maybe he can stretch a little potential a long way.

Of course, she'd be inexplicably happier about it if Cara were his accomplice again. But. Here they are.

"Alright"

He nods.

"Don't forget this," he takes her hand and places it on her armed hip.

"I won't…"

He returns to preparing without another word. He snatches a loose satchel from a rung next to his weapons rack and tosses a small med kit inside along with binoculars and an extra utility knife. Then he shuffles to the kitchenette for a few ration bars.

"How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"Definitely overnight ...probably three at the most."

_Ugh_.

"Okay"

Her voice is tight. Even she hears it. He stops checking all of the pockets of his bag to look her way again.

"I'm fine"

She is.

Three nights would be the longest they've been apart since converging into each other's lives, but that's ..._fine_. She's an adult. She's been on her own more nights than they've known of one another's existence. She'll manage. Plus there is work to be done; plus, she has the kid and Peli & Co. for entertainment.

Three nights seems like a long time for him to be trekking around a hostile planet. Toward danger. With someone he literally just met. _He's_ the one who's going to practically be alone...

Hanna has to actively remind herself that he'd been on his own for a long time, too. That he's been doing this kind of work before she was ever around to fret over it.

He doesn't _need_ anyone fretting.

But he does have someone now...Hanna just doesn't want to hold him up.

.

"I'll be fine," she reasserts herself, this time with a little more clear confidence.

"I know you will," he ticks his chin down once. "You remember how to lockdown the ship? If you need to?"

"Uh-huh"

He has made her practice several times.

"Only use the comlink for an emergency," he pats his belt, where his portable com is housed.

She'd be able to raise him from the cockpit.

Not that she plans to need it.

"Okay"

.

After a last visual sweep of the hull, he's ready.

Peli, who's shown hitherto unknown grace by refraining from goading them into _hurrying up_, accompanies them up the stairs and out to the streets.

"Who's this womprat?" she scoffs just loud enough that Hanna catches it when they step out into the alley after Din.

But she is less derisive and more distracted by the newcomer slouching up against one of the speeders.

He is young... and attractive.

Perhaps she oughtn't be surprised. It makes sense for a new, green bounty hunter to be someone young. Now that she sees him, she's not sure what she'd been expecting. Not someone so ...clean, probably. As opposed to Din's weathered clothes, the worn armor he'd had when she first met him.

_'He's in over his head'_

Awesome_. _

.

"This is all you found?" the Mandalorian is not at all impressed with the speeder bikes before them.

Which is grumpy but also fair of him. The bike are worn-in and mismatched in a way that suggests utilitarian mechanics. Hanna knows that isn't necessarily a _bad _thing, but no it's not an impressive look. Regardless, Din is strapping his bag onto the back of one of the bikes.

"What do you expect? This isn't a Core world … ...oh. _Hello_," the other man straightens up when his spots that his accomplice has friends.

"Hi," Hanna remembers her manners and waves.

He slides forward and turns the wave into a handshake.

"Toro Calican"

"Hanna"

"_Hanna_," he repeats and slips his hand away to stretch his shoulders wide and plant his hand on his hips. "Are you two a team? You comin' with us?"

"Oh no," she chuckles at the mere idea no matter how much she wishes there was a second person at Din's back. "Definitely not. I'm staying here."

"...that's too bad."

"Is it?" the Mandalorian is just behind his shoulder, now.

This _Toro_ doesn't seem bothered. He'd still languid and grinning.

"Hey...more the merrier, huh?"

"...that right?"

In contrast, that helmet stares down at him rigid and unflinching.

"Alright ...have it your way, big guy," the younger hunter holds up his hands in innocence but turns back to Hanna before backing off. "Any tips for traveling alone with this one?"

Before Hanna can suggest that he might not like her methods, Din plants a hand on his chest to push him back toward the bikes.

"Alright. So it's like that… ..._ma'am_," he finally nods over to Peli.

But he seems to take the general hint and shuffles over to his speeder to busy himself rechecking the straps on his own supplies.

"Who _is_ that kid?" the mechanic grumbles.

"...he seems fun," Hanna's mouth quirks up in sardonic fashion.

Din tutts and side-steps to block her view of the wannabe-hunter. Which is either amusing or concerning for revealing the level to which he trusts his current partner. She's not entirely clear.

"Stay cautious," he advises.

"Mmhmm," Hanna wants to cast another calculating look at Toro but can't so zeros her gaze on Din instead. "You too."

He hums his understanding and cups the back of her head for another _keldabe_ kiss.

"I'll be careful," he promises before she has to urge it. "...and quick."

Hanna's sure to flash a smile for this when he straightens up.

"None of that for me, thanks," Peli interjects to get her opinion in. "Just bring back some credits, yeah?"

The Mandalorian sighs and does not dane to respond at all. With a swish of his cloak, he spins away and stomps over to the speeder that is waiting for him.

All business.

.

Hanna watches until he slings a leg over the bike, ready to go.

Then she studies Toro one last time.

When he stops in readying himself and reels in surprise, she looks down to see the kid's head sticking out of the sling. He looks up at Hanna, then out to Din, and then waves his bitty hand with enthusiasm. Toro cocks his head at this and continues to drink the kid in until the Mandalorian looks around and slaps his shoulder before speeding off down the alley.

Toro scrambles after him.

.

"...I'm guessing that's going to make for a _long_ day," Peli grades.

"Yeah…"

Her cynicism isn't helpful, though it does feel true.

Rather than dwell, Hanna drops her attention to the kid and starts coaxing him back down into the belly of the sling. She doubts he'll be happy about it for long, particularly once he hears the bustle of streets and shops, but she can always button the fabric up if she needs to. If he cries she'll just have to deal with that on the fly.

"Ready?" Peli sounds chipper about the prospect of demanding fair prices from sellers.

"Let's do it"


	24. The Sellout

_Hi all - I hope by now you've all been able to see Chapter 23? I'm sorry that it didn't truly post for a while; I have no idea what happened. That said, hopefully this one will work on the first try. [fingers crossed] _

_It's a bit of an angsty one, but enjoy anyway: _

**Chapter 24: ****The Sellout**

Well…

...well….

_Shit_.

Hanna longs for a more cogent analysis of the situation, but there it is. It's all she's got .

She can hardly think straight over the strange rushing noise in her ears.

A cold tingle had raced up her spine minutes ago. She'd had the urge to run, to go, to grab - kriffing_ anything_ \- yet she'd never moved. The feeling had petered out into something anxious and jittery in her arms and fingers.

But she's still just standing there.

.

Funny how this morning she'd woken up to the kid giggling in his bed and gone through the normal morning routine without a second thought. They'd had breakfast, complete with more laughter, and then played their own bounty hunting game called "Where Did the Stuffed Frog Get Dropped?"

Then she and Peli had gotten to work, Hanna taking the other woman's lead because, well, _she_ owned the garage. She made a magnanimous boss, too; especially for someone who was used to giving orders to pit droids. Peli thought out loud but accepted Hanna's input on this spitball form of brainstorming, and once she decided on a course of action she was quick with her hands. Not as fast as when she has three droids helping - _oh, she made sure to mention that_ \- but efficient all the same.

They'd found a complimentary way to work together.

Funny how sometimes work comes easy that way.

.

And Peli is saying something, now; Hanna had heard the other woman's words, she thinks, but didn't process them ...can't call forth what the woman must be waiting for. She can see Peli moving closer in her peripheral, so it isn't an actual surprise when a hand, small but calloused, curls around her elbow. Still, Hanna flinches. Turns wide eyes towards Peli's pinched expression.

Funny how they'd been laughing...what, just a few minutes ago? Right?

Yes, the memory is fresh:

_"Oi!"_

_The kid, who'd been chasing after the fuel line Peli was coiling around her arm, had finally taken a dive for it. He straddled the tubing and wrestled to and fro like it was a great desert snake he wanted - needed!- to take a bite of. _

_Before he could actually wield his teeth, Peli dropped what line she had managed to straighten and scooped the kid up. He only pouted a moment before he found himself tossed into the air so Peli could catch him. He hadn't flown near as high as Din would toss him these days - which, one might say, is almost too high - but he squealed in glee all the same. _

_"What do you think you're doing, you little womprat?" _

_Hanna watched her repeat the move a few times until one of the droids clambered over (she was still having trouble telling them apart). _

_"No!" Peli tucked the kid into her elbow so she could raise an eyebrow at the tittering bot. "You cannot play this game … ...I know you have precise reflexes, but this game is not for you; got that? You think his papa would like coming back here to see you throwing him? Huh?"_

_The bot in question erupted in a high trill and waved his arms around to indicate: "no!" _

_Hanna grinned. _

_"That's what I thought … ...no," Peli cajoled softer at the kid in her hands. "Daddy wouldn't like that, would he? No. He'd cost me a droid, huh? Yeah...yes he would!" _

_The child clapped his hands at this hypothetical description, which got him called a "womprat" again but also earned him another swoop up into the air, his geet kicking joyfully while he and Peli laughed. _

_Hanna had laughed, too. _

_Funny how that had been so nice_ _. _

_She'd asked Peli whether she had any kids and received a scoff and a "no" in return. Once the mechanic sent the kid back to play with the droids so she could finish cleaning up the damaged fuel line, she'd explained she was an aunt and happier for it. Then she'd regaled Hanna with endless tales of her five feisty nieces. _

.

Yeah, they had been laughing. It had been a great evening, warm in a way that had had nothing to do with the heat.

.

Hanna's no longer laughing.

.

She blinks at Peli's equally serious face.

Then twists her gaze towards the door again to stare at the disheveled Toro Callican.

Who'd said...

Who'd come back to tell them … …

_Kriff_.

Hanna slams her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. Holds it. She knows fear, knows the feeling will shake - it always does. Then her brain will work. Then this moment can sink in.

"Hanna," Peli squeezes her elbow, rushing the process.

She opens her eyes to see Toro is also watching her with some level of suspicion, still a bedraggled mess and now frowning.

Right. She's _just standing there_. Surely he had expected a damn reaction to him arriving solo and announcing that he was sorry - _so so sorry!_ \- but Mando hadn't made it and he was surprised _he_ even made it and he hurried back as fast as he could and, and, and…

Kriff.

As her body evens itself out into something dizzy but not so overcharged, Hanna finds her throat grows thick. Tight. It's betraying her right in the moment that she feels ready to ask a question.

All that comes out is a scratchy and insufficient, "what?"

"What the hells happened out there?" Peli demands.

Yes. _That_. Thank you. May all the gods and goddesses of the universe - big or small, doesn't matter - bless this woman.

"Our target. We found her out in the Dune Sea ...she's an ex-assassin," Toro launches now that he's been invited. "… ...she was ready for us."

Suicide mission.

.

Hanna casts around for the kid but doesn't spot him. He'd been playing with the spindly droids and ...yeah. Yeah, maybe that was for the best at the moment? As much as she wants to clutch him close just now, he'll only feel her anxiety.

"...we tried to outsmart her," the young hunter goes on. "Mando had a plan. She popped him in the armor with her sniper rifle yesterday afternoon, and it was too close a call, right? So we waited until dark because he had flares - blind her so she can't use her scope, ya know?"

He gives both women a hopeful, dope-eyed sort of look even as he shakes his head back and forth.

"She was too good. Managed to get off a solid shot in-between flares … ...caught Mando in the neck."

Peli curses, and the nausea Hanna has been bottling swoops up in her gut again. She swallows to ignore it, pretends it doesn't have her throat and shoulders tingling. She blinks against the picture her mind is creating: Din spilling off of his speeder to bleed-out alone in the sand while Toro...while he ...while he what?

"...and?"

She stops herself from asking '_and what the hell did you do?' _Because some corner of her mind knows that's selfish, that it isn't fair. Common sense says you run from a shooter, right? Another piece of her mind flares to life and suggests Din might have even told Tore to bail if things went wrong, that he shouldn't continue on his own.

Suicide mission.

_'I can teach him' _

Well. It seems that wasn't so...

"And I high-tailed it!" Toro throws his arms up with very little chagrin. "...I can't take her on my own - that's...that's why I hired Mando in the first place."

"Maker…" beside Hanna, Peli glances skyward and makes the sign of some religion she doesn't recognize.

"I just ...figured I should come back," he shuffles a foot and angles his shoulders into something that looks contrite instead of just plain tired. "I owed it to him to tell you … ...he talked about you, ya know."

Something inscrutable sings untrue about that. Grates in Hanna's mind even as she starts reacting to the shamefaced display he's contorting. She thinks she should comfort him but can't bring herself to.

At her side, Peli is nodding nice and slow. Thoughtful.

"...the desert isn't kind to anyone."

No kriff.

There's something poetic she is _not_ willing to examine about this run starting and ending in dry hellscapes. Hanna almost laughs - something coarse and utterly hysterical - but it dies somewhere around her soft palate and she coughs instead.

"So he's ...he's still _out there_?"

It's a morbid thought. One which she wants to take back as soon as she hears her own voice ask it.

"Yeah? I …" Toro's feet scritch back and forth again. "I came straight back to the city…"

Her shoulders prickle at the irreverence, but she tries to ignore it. To ignore all the _wrongwrongwrong_ that this seems. It had been a lot for him, _right_? He's scared, _right_? Of course he is. Anyone would be...

"Any chances this ex-assassin's on her way?" Peli still has authority in her tone as if she's perfectly capable of handling such an inevitability.

And...maybe she is?

Hanna's own wallowing thoughts smash to a halt in her mind. Sharper fear takes their place. They can't just stand there. Not if there's a threat. There has to be somewhere they can go, something they can _do_.

.

Peli and Hanna have been working well together over the last day and a half, and the woman had made an offhand comment about Hanna finding work there in Mos Eisley. Hanna had wondered whether Din would be willing to stay a while and shore up some credits...but if there's a sniper angry with Din or his possible associates, that's probably a horrible plan. Hanna can't fly The Crest...could Peli? _Would_ she?

Hanna thinks of Cara. Sorgan is no longer an oasis, but if she can reach out the soldier would probably give her a hand. Might have a decent idea of a strategic place to hide away. She might even help Hanna find Din's people...that's what he wanted to do, right? That was more for himself than for _her_, but ...younglings. Would they take care of the kid in his memory? Din had been examining star-charts and plotting the most efficient routes to possible covert hideaways; maybe there was enough up in the cockpit for her to go on ...

Maybe that's what he'd have wanted.

It felt wrong, but maybe…

_Maybe…_

"I can get you out of here," Toro's offer snaps Hanna from her racing thoughts. "I've got a ship."

"What?" she nods dumb, like she hasn't just been been cobbling together just such an escape plan.

"... yeah, an old AIAT/i. Nothing fancy, but it doesn't give me too much trouble. It's big enough to take you and the little green guy... I'd say I owe Mando that much."

"...at least," Peli snorts and earns a disgruntled look from the man.

"What about you?" Hanna worries for the woman.

She wants to _do_ something. Wants to _know_ she'll be alright.

"I don't think Fennik is coming back - we were racing her to her transport in Mos Espa but," Toro shrugs like anything is possible.

Because it is. That much is obvious today.

"_I'll_ be fine," Peli answers Hanna's actual question. "Just an old mechanic working on an old hunk of metal for whoever happened to land," she jerks a thumb at The Crest.

Sure, she's probably had shady customers before. 'It's just not known for safety,' Din had said of Tatooine. _Maker_ why couldn't they have landed anywhere else?

Hanna scrubs both hands over her face to scrub away whatever tears are threatening the corners of her eyes. Peli, who has enjoyed _poking and prodding add teasing_ for any conceivable reason is gracious and tactful enough to be silent about it.

.

"Okay...okay... ...where are you headed next?" Hanna rattles herself together the best she can and sits down on a nearby parts bin.

"I _was_ planning to hit Nevarro after this job," the man sighs and _nononono_ Hanna can't go there, but she also can't have him knowing that. "But this job is a bust so far. I'm not sure if I'm welcome there..."

He screws his face into a frown and moves closer.

"...where're _you_ from?" he checks like he's hunting for ideas.

"...all over."

He huffs something near to but-not-quite a laugh.

"Same … ...I'm not sure where I'm going," he straightens his shoulders to announce. "But I can drop you off on the way."

If he's aimless then maybe he won't mind dropping-in on Sorgan to see if Cara's still there, and if she's moved on maybe Hanna could even convince him to give her a second lift if the villagers know where Cara migrated to. She doesn't have credits to chip-in on fuel, but if his starship needs any work she could try bartering services.

"I ...I'm …" Hanna gives a few convulsive swallows because her throat is thick again.

The thought of leaving with a near stranger is too much. Her eyes keep darting to the door, still somehow blindly and foolishly sure Din is going to walk through. Not that he's shown himself to have a sick sense of humor, but ...but her mind is still rejecting the idea that he's not coming back. That's he's laying somewhere in the desert d-

Kriff.

Why can't she just say it? He's always seemed so ...solid. Unbreakable. Which isn't rational and she knows it, but that doesn't stop it from being true. Still, something doesn't feel _right_ about the idea that he's gone and she wants to hold onto that notion.

Denial.

Hanna's pretty sure that's what it is. She's also quite sure it's not healthy, but if it's keeping her sane, then…

Can she just break down later?

.

"I'll ...round up the kid, huh? Nut and Bolt were twirling him on an old propeller…" Peli offers and moves away like the level of emotion is getting too much for her.

In a distant way, Hanna suspects she's also sorry to be saying farewell to the kid so soon. She thinks the kid will be sorry for it, too...

"Do you ...need help packing?" Toro interrupts this thought in a rushed way. "We shouldn't wait. You know. Just... in case."

His face is doing a complicated configuration when Hanna looks back up at him. She can't quite make it out. Somewhere between pleading and ...exasperation? And maybe that's just nervous energy. Makes sense, really.

His offer feels overeager, somehow, and her chest rejects it outright even if her mind knows two sets of hands will make lighter work.

"No," she stands between him and the ship, oddly protective about the thought of him inside it. "It's fine," she covers and swallows around that lie. "You should ...rest."

Toro grimaces and glances up the ship's ramp, but he nods all the same. Hanna watches him find a bin to perch himself on. She stares for a few moments. Wants to ask him so many things. Even more than that, though, she wants to be away from him

To be alone, really.

That's all.

.

As soon as she's inside The Crest, everything is Din.

Because it is _his_ obviously. Or _was _his. But then there was also the details...

Rolling toolbox? It's too easy to remember they'd shared that their first night on Sorgan while they worked on minor repairs. Apart but companionable in the way they'd been coming to understand each other at the time.

Work bench? Only a few nights ago Din had shoved aside his blaster cleaning equipment to bend Hanna over it. The angle had her toe-curling-full, and she'd felt out of control in the best way. The whole thing had been _very promising_ until the kid had screeched from his bed to interrupt. Then they could only laugh ...and curse a little, too.

Random stack of boxes in cargo? She'd seen Din help the kid scale them so many times she's lost count. The kid would laugh and laugh. Sometimes Din would, too..or he'd sigh as he dutifully stopped the kiddo from leaping off the top.

Weapon's racks? He had spent a lot of time by that cabinet. A life's worth of weapons were housed over there. Some she's heard the harrowing stories behind and some …well, she won't.

Galley? Forgot it - they spent _hours and hours _in there. It's hard to think about. From their first tentative discussions to the more recent flirting, planning, and child-rearing.

Bunks? Forget. It. That's even more difficult to think on.

Hanna leans onto a support ballast and chews her lip against tears. If she focuses on the sting maybe she won't -

Nope. Too late.

She's swiping full-fledged tears off of her face in no time and her breath's hitching in her chest. Kriff.

_Kriff!_

.

It isn't as though she hadn't known this _could_ happen.

She should've known better than to be optimistic.

.

She lets herself panic a while. Cries. Lets her mind scatter.

She's not sure exactly how long it takes her to wrangle herself together, but she does it.

There are _things to do_.

'We shouldn't wait,' Toro had said.

He's right. She needs to pack. Personal belongings first. Then food so they aren't skimming off all Toro's supplies. Then she'll check Din's route plans for anything useful.

Then ...they'll...go? Will Peli buy The Crest? Will Hanna have to figure out how t-

No.

One thing at a time. Concrete steps.

Pack first.

.

It's sloppy, but she gets it done. Clothes. Necessities. Toys. Foods once she pokes her head outside to ask Toro. All shoved haphazard into rucksacks. She even nabs a few weapons because, well ...this was a Mandalorian's ship and she knew that's what he'd have wanted.

She's works as quick as she can manage. Though part of her wants to linger in this safe, memory-filled space…she thinks...maybe she shouldn't?

Maybe she should...should try to…

Kriff.

No.

Concrete steps are doing her good.

.

She shoves her bags toward the ramp and makes her way to the ladder. If she wants to look at The Crest's star charts she can only do that in the cockpit...but ...it feels _wrong_.

The entire ship feels like an extension of Din but the cockpit - the nervecenter - most of all. _Hells_, some wishful fraction of her brain expects to see him filling the pilot's chair when she steps into the space. It's empty, of course, and for a short while she just stares…

Then, on slow feet, shuffles forward to sit herself on the time-softened leather of his seat. Wide. Firm. Worn in the right places so it's just a _bit_ uncomfortable for her frame. She's not the right fit.

Her chest stiffens in a discomfort she wishes she could ignore.

.

Hanna knows perfectly well how to call up star charts. She _should_ be doing that. Should be rushing.

But she needs a breather.

In her distraction it's a few minutes before she registers the flashing yellow to her left signaling an attempted transmission. They'd...missed a call?

It could be anyone - dozens or hundreds of people she doesn't know - but she lets herself hope it's from Din's people. His covert! Would they speak to her? She'll have to be convincing…

When Din's own voice scratches through the line she nearly gags on her own breath.

**_'Hanna!? Hanna…dammit, okay - you need to go. Run. Take the kid and hide.'_**_ \- _wind blows and she hears a strange grunting for a moment. **_'Hide anywhere. I'll find you. Callican must've found out I turned on the Guild - he sabotaged the mission.' _**_-_ more static and wind.** '****_You need to go before he gets back. Just...run.'_**

Fekk.

What?

That...that little shit had been _faking_!

Adrenaline lights up Hanna's spine again. In her mind's eye she's grabbing the kid from one of the droids and springing out into the sandy streets, but …

Too late.

Callican's already here, so. So she has to think.

What's her first step...

Her mind is now a jumble of terror and giddy relief all at once. She prays Din is close, and she reaches for the comm to get a message back to him s-

"Well," a too-close voice makes Hanna jump before her hand reaches the dial. "I really wish you hadn't heard that…"

Toro is standing in the entry, his once-frazzled looking face now set into something more stoic. She scrambles to her feet and takes a step back, though there's nowhere to retreat.

"You…" a dozen insults flash through her mind but she can't choose - none of them feel dark enough.

"Hoped we could get halfway to Nevarro before you realized what was going on ...guess Mando ruined that..."

_Kriff_.


	25. We're Here, Pt 1

**Chapter 25: We're Here, Pt. 1**

"Shitshitshitshitshit…"

"Well, now I _know_ you were a mechanic - mouth like that," Peli tuts at Hanna.

She'll give the older lady credit for trying to create a light mood, but Hanna's pretty sure they're past all that.

_So_ far past.

"Well - that _hurts_"

"I ain't even done yet"

Hanna breathes long and slow through her nose.

"_Thanks_ for that… …"

"All I'm saying is the truth - whattya want from me?"

Hmm. True enough. She's hardly shown herself to be one for platitudes, has she?

"Fine. I know. Just ...okay, get it over with"

"You gonna relax?"

"Yes. I mean ...maybe," Hanna tries another slow exhale. "...you do know what you're doing, right?"

"Of course! I've seen it done … …Bolt looked up a video about it on the holonet once and popped _my_ shoulder back into place. And I'm doing just fine."

"...can we get _him_ in here?"

Peli snorts.

"He's hiding. Folded up out there with Nut and Scrap - they are _not_ fear motivated droids, let me tell you…"

Kriffing hells. Fine! Fine.

"...do it," Hanna nods. "Do it before he comes back"

"Deep breath ...there you go... that's it. One more…" Peli's suddenly a motivational speaker.

That's an utterly ridiculous visual, but it's just enough to relax Hanna so the other woman can use the grip on her elbow to pull and _shift _and-

Shit_!_

Hanna's knees almost buckle.

She tightens her good hand's grip on the ladder in front of her to steady herself. Counts her breaths. _Shitdamn_ but that was …

...was pretty bad, yet her body feels relief already. She aches, to be sure, but her left side doesn't feel so angry with pulsing fire.

Which. That's good.

"...thanks," she nods.

"Yeah? You good now? _Happy_?" Peli's still scowling even though she uses a delicate touch to pat Hanna's hand.

Surliness is her defense mechanism.

Hanna respects it.

.

But, no. She is far from happy. She's in less pain, but other than that she's in no better a position than she had been moments ago.

That is: captive.

.

Hanna _maybe_ hadn't played her cards right once she figured out Toro's devious intentions - well. Considering her predicament, she _definitely_ hadn't played her cards right.

Leaping straight at the wannabe bounty hunter was, arguably, poor problem solving ...but he had let her believe that Din was dead somewhere out in the desert. To say that bothered her would be a severe understatement.

_Plus_ he'd threatened the kid.

So, really, it had been outside her control. Attacking had been some furious instinct. She'd wanted to rip him limb from limb, never mind that Din hadn't gotten around to teaching her that particular lesson. Some part of her animal brain is still satisfied remembering his look of surprise and the _'oof!' _that had burst past his lips when his back slammed into the copilot seat.

Her aching bones? Less satisfied

Because, needless to say, trying to peel Toro's face off with her bare hands had been nothing like practicing self defense with Din. _He_ had held back from harming her, save for a bruise or two. _He_ slowed down. Paused to teach. Was in control in all the right ways to make sure both of them were safe.

Toro, predictably, did none of the above. He'd hollered and cursed. Used his greater weight to heave against her as soon as he regained his balance so that they stumbled, tilted, and finally fell _straight down the hatch_ into the cargo bay.

Hence the dislocated shoulder and any number of other blooming bruises.

Hanna had gone for her gun - points to her for continuing to carry it the way Din showed her - but in the heat of the moment her shot went wide. Toro had been on her again before she could get off a second one.

.

Her bruising chin and split lip are evidence to the way Toro had taken offense.

.

So, yeah, things could have gone better.

Now that the moment is over - now that she can _think_ \- she wishes she'd waited. There would have been a more opportune moment to give away the fact that she had a gun on her. Din had specifically told her that the holster was subtle. She could have -

But it doesn't matter.

Regardless of what she _could_ have done, she's here now.

Aching. Scared. Handcuffed to the cockpit ladder by her still-throbbing arm. At least she's not alone - that's something.

Granted it's not _a lot_ of something….and she would much rather Peli be with the kid.

Wherever the kriff the kid has gone to.

.

The reason Toro isn't in here preventing Peli from performing half-baked medical procedures is because he's out storming through the repair bay while he looks for the kid. Whether the little guy senses danger or thinks he's still playing a game or has truly gotten lost...Hanna doesn't know.

Doesn't care as long as he remains hidden.

.

"Alright. You got a plan?" Peli interrupts Hanna's fretting.

"Um….no? I mean, my plan was to try tackling a bounty hunter, so..."

So maybe she's less than qualified.

"I thought your man told you this chucklehead _wasn't_ a bounty hunter yet"

"...and I _still_ got my ass kicked," Hanna tilts her chin toward her newly-replaced-but-still-cuffed arm.

Peli harrumphs and crosses her arms.

"Okay, okay...a plan. Maybe you can sneak out of here. Are there authorities you could go to?"

Toro hadn't cuffed Peli up; she's wandering the hold freely. He'd yelled at her and threatened her, but after using a second pair of binders to lock Din's weapon's cabinet closed it seems he was fresh out. Or maybe he's ageist and unafraid of the wily mechanic, and Hanna would delight in watching that be to the man's demise.

But Peli snorts.

"I know just about how much coin you've got, and it _ain't_ enough to mobilize law and order in these parts."

Great.

"A friend who'd help us, then?"

Peli wobbles her hand back-and-forth in the air like she's not sure. Like people around here don't stick their necks out much, especially for strangers. And ...based on Din's description of the place and what little Hanna has seen? That feels on-brand.

"Shit...okay, look," Hanna tries to think. "You just need to get out of here."

"Get o-"

"Yes. Try to find the Mandalorian if you can, but just go. There's a gun in my bag," she nods at her rucksack, which is still by the mouth of the ramp. "Take it and go."

"What about y-"

Hanna cuts the woman off by raising her free hand and rattling her binder's chain against the ladder.

"I can't go anywhere. But if y-"

"_Neither_ of you are going anywhere"

.

They both look up to see Toro coming up the ramp with heavy footsteps. There's venom in his eyes, and his jaw juts forward with roiling attitude.

Hanna hates him.

Beside her, Peli ratchets her arms into a tight fold in front of her chest. Though she knows the woman is nervous, her posture comes off moody and strong. She even lifts her chin to mug at Toro, every bit the Tatooine native.

"Where is it?" the man grinds at Hanna through his back teeth.

"No idea"

"Where. _Is_. It? I've _tried_ to be nice-"

Peli scoffs, but the sound degrades into something airy and useless when Toro levels his blaster in her direction.

"Hey!"

"She's not worth anything to me. I'll blow her head off …"

Part of Hanna isn't so sure he will, but she also doesn't trust her instincts right now.

"Okayokayokay ...look, I don't know, alright?" Hanna holds her hands up as much as she's able and pleads for him to believe her. "That's the truth. I don't know, but I ...I can help you."

"_Help_ me?" Toro's lip curls, a healthy level of skepticism in his tone

"Sure...yes. Yeah," Hanna clears her throat but continues to nod. "I'm worried about him."

She doesn't want Toro to get his hands on the kid, of course, but maybe while they look she can come up with an actual plan. She needs to know the kiddo is safe, and then ...and then, well. _Well_. They'll go from there.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

"Please," she presses when he doesn't move a muscle. "We'll look for him. He knows me; he'll ...maybe he will come out."

Toro narrows his eyes in consideration. Calculates. Then scoffs at her and shakes his head.

"You must think I'm an idiot"

Hanna grinds her teeth in annoyance, but Peli looks like there is very much something she would like to say.

She elects to stay mum, too, however.

"I don't," Hanna finally says. "But sometimes he-"

"I don't care. It doesn't matter. It _doesn't_," Toro announces, seeming to steel himself. "I don't need that weird fucking kid, anyway. I'll say he died in the fight to capture Mando - who gives a shit?"

Hanna just blinks. Besides the fact that _she would very much care,_ she is bowled over by the realization that Toro has no clue what's going on. Well, that he only knows half of the story: that Din betrayed the Guild. He knows he can cash in on that, but he doesn't know what he _really_ has. What Din's original job was all about.

Her mind races in circles to decipher whether this is good or bad. As long as the kid's safe and far from the Guild, then maybe…

"Don't fucking cry on me," Toro gives her a shove for going quiet. "I don't have the time for bantha-shit...I need to think. I need to figure out a plan..."

.

Toro paces around the hold while the women stay where they are. Peli tries to say something quietly to Hanna, but she only get a couple words in before trigger-happy Toro is waving his gun in their direction and demanding that they_ not fucking test him_.

Noted.

Hanna thinks she might get it. He's trying to come up with the best way to, as he said, _capture_ a Mandalorian - he must know he's outclassed. She would be stressed, too, if she were going to try such a thing. It's bold. Perhaps bolder than he's genuinely prepared for.

She wonders if he regrets turning on Din, though she doesn't dare to ask the jittery ball of tension with the gun.

.

In the end, Toro knows what his best asset is at the moment: two hostages. Essentially his whole plan hinges on this bit of luck and the woman are to be something of a shield for him so that he doesn't truly have to face the Mandalorian.

It's ...an unfortunately wise choice.

So he shoves and bullies them out of the Crest and into Peli's office.

The upside is that he takes the handcuffs off of Hanna in order to let her move and he decides not to replace them - he'll need them for Mando, he says. The downside is that he finds another way to be in control of the environment by using the switch board in the office to turn all of the bay lights off. Waiting in the dark is eerie beyond belief, and Hanna can't help but wonder if the kid is afraid out there in the dark somewhere.

As much as her eyes are riveted on the bay entrance for signs of Din, she is straining her ears for any sound from the kid.

She can only pray the former shows before the latter...

.

.

Finally -_finally! _ \- they see shadows moving near the doorway. There's little more than a silhouette rippling on the stairs, but it's something!

Hanna tenses; Toro plasters himself behind her and clamps a hand over her mouth. She tries to lean away on instinct, and his sweaty fingers tighten around her jaw in silent retaliation.

.

A complicated feeling sweeps through Hanna when Din arrives into the dimly lit bay … immense relief coagulating together with fresh fear.

No more waiting.

_Something_ is going to happen.

It has to.

.

It begins by Toro throwing on the office light.

Din whirls to face them but is pointing his blaster at duraglass. Behind it, Toro has Hanna barricaded in front of him and Peli is a mere arm's length away at gunpoint.

"Took you long enough, Mando," Toro shouts out.

Din doesn't react, not really. He says nothing but he also doesn't lower his weapon; that in itself makes his opinion clear.

"Come on," Toro scoffs. "You've got nothing. Go ahead and put the gun down - we both know you aren't going to shoot at us."

Din hesitates.

Then his arm loosens and he drops the gun aside. It's reasonable but, Hanna can admit, disheartening. If she'd expected something different, she's not sure what that might've been.

"Now. Hands on your head…"

Din complies and Toro scoffs again - short and derisive like he's the smartest boy in the room. Hanna's spine tingles in indignation that may or may not be deserved ...considering the circumstances.

"Get out there and cuff him"

Peli's sigh is long-suffering, but under the glare of Toros's gun she does as she's told.

Hanna wishes it were her going...to see Din closer. Feel that he's fine. Catch his familiar scent, hopefully. Ask if he has a plan. Explain what's happened here ...but Toro knows his real capital and forces her to stay close while Peli approaches Din and steps behind him to put the thick binders on.

.

As she does so, Toro starts feeling a bit confident and slowly walks them out of the office.

"You really stepped in it, huh, big guy?" he chuckles. "Took a whole gamble thinking I wouldn't figure out who you were…"

There's a mockery in his tone that's close to giddy. He's suddenly much more confident than his previous pacing and crankiness could have suggested.

Hanna hates him a little extra just for that.

.

Peli completes her job and shuffles back out of the way looking dubious. Hanna catches her eye but doesn't find anything useful, so she looks back to Din who is tracking her and Toro's movement as they draw closer.

She can't read much off of him at this distance, either. She forces herself to take a long, slow breath and calm her frazzled thoughts; the effort is nice but not entirely successful. Her body's too busy buzzing with the adrenaline of '_now-is-the-time!'_ and '_what-next!_?'

"Everyone's so _quiet_," Toro sounds amused with himself and the mess he's created. "What do you think?" he bumps Hanna's shoulder with his own. "Think he's smart?"

Hanna doesn't answer.

Toro gives her a small shake.

"Oh, come on! He got you into this mess, didn't he? ...guess you don't mind," he goes on when she continues to ignore him. "I saw how cozy you were with him ...but I'm the one in charge, now."

He nuzzles into her long hair, and it's then that Hanna rolls her shoulder to shrug him off and releases her sore arm to shove him away from her.

He laughs - _laughs_ like he hasn't been a bursting of agitation for the last few hour _ \- _and lets her back off a step or two before snatching hold of her jacket so she's still in arm's reach.

"Watch it, Mando," he twists the gun out.

Hanna looks. Instead of standing on braced legs, Din is frozen mid-step. It's clear he'd forgotten himself for a moment, and the air is near to crackling with tension.

"...I'd hate to have to bring you in already damaged. The Guild will want to do that on their own ...they don't like traitors," he looks to Hanna and adds as if for her benefit: "It won't be pretty."

Even despite the current predicament, it's difficult to picture Din being taken down by anyone...then again, Hanna very much remembers the firefight on Nevarro and how big the Guild must be. Her stomach rolls with the thought.

"We can ...we could figure something out," she blurts before she can form an actual bargain.

Toro smirks.

"'Fraid not ...I know you don't have money, and I don't want it anyway. The Guild will welcome me with open arms when I bring him the two of you…"

"He can't find the kid," Hanna snaps her gaze back around to Din.

"Shut up," Toro yanks her closer again.

And though flustering him was the entire point, Hanna flinches at the proximity and rough treatment.

"I don't need that little brat," Toro growls and tilts the gun in her direction.

Hanna leans against his grip with little success. Something digs into her thigh, and she glances down when Toro turns on Din again.

"Don't like that, huh, Mando?" Toro rattles her in his hold again to tease Din, but Hanna's seen what she needs to see.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

Din hadn't taught her much about knives, but she's used more than enough utility blades in her day to know the fundamentals. Toro's tactical knife couldn't be much different if she can just …

"You two are something else," Toro sneers and prattles on and shakes his head at Hanna like he's annoyed with a pesky bug. "You don't even know what he _looks_ like - you'd walk right by him on the street if he took that damn bucket off his head..."

"No I wouldn't," Hanna fixes a glare upon him.

Which, of course ...is not altogether true. Hasn't she thought that very thing during fits of unhelpful melancholy? But she isn't going to let him just pluck at her insecurities with that stupid kriffing smile on his face, so -

Toro snorts.

"_Sure_...c'mon," he focuses on Din to gesture more orders with his blaster. "Hands down. We're heading to my ship. You try something and I shoot her, you hear that?"

"Yeah," Din lowers his hands, wrist pressed together, and finally speaks; the sound of it soothes some small fraction of Hanna's nerves. "I hear you."

"Yeah? Good. Because a bounty's fine dead or alive," Toro inclines his head at Hanna. "_You're_ the real prize, so I don't give a shit about her."

_Kriff_.

At least she knows just where she stands...

"Kill her and you don't have anything to hold over my head - you better remember that"

Well.

A flicker of something - worry, maybe - plays over Toro's face, but then he replaces it with a fresh smirk.

"You've got a point there," Toro releases Hanna's sleeve to seize her shoulder and give it a squeeze-shake.

"Ah. _Shhhit_," pain radiates through Hanna's arm and along her collar to her neck strong enough to make her stomach clench.

She grabs at his offending arm, but it won't budge.

"See? I think I can still get under your skin just fine."

He's smug, and it's infuriating - scary, too, but Hanna would rather be angry. She drags her gaze from his face and glances at Din, where he's pulled his shoulders back and clenched a fist.

"...I hear you."

"Great"

Oh, yes. Sure. _Great_.

"Let's go," Toro seems content with the accord and jostles her one more time before releasing her.

No. They can't. Leaving will come to no good…

.

With a small grunt, Hanna lets herself play faint and slumps forward against Toro. While he starts and tries to sluff her off, Hanna wraps her fingers around the hilt of his knife.

He doesn't seem to notice until she has to give it a tug on her way to her knees.

"Hey!" Toro pushes her head and skitters back once he cottons on.

Hanna still manages to lunge forward to stab at his leg and _pull_.

.

Toro shouts.

.

There's a flash of bright white.

.

She hears blaster fire.

...Hanna's not sure what order this happens in.

She's disoriented and panicky! Is she hurt? Is she concussed? Dead? ...no. No. That can't be; she can feel the packed dirt under her hands. She-

A fresh blast of gunfire makes her jump, and she flattens herself to the floor when some semblance of sense returns to her.

.

Another shout follows.

.

Then a weight drops onto her. She twists, and through the spots floating in her vision she sees Toro's face, screwed-up and panting. She kicks at him and scrambles back as best she can.

.

Another shout.

.

In the span of a blink, the weight of him is gone.

She hears scuffling and then dark, indistinct forms are fumbling in the shadows. Toro. _Din_. Hanna...she should help. She should...she could…

Kriff.

She squeezes her eyes shut hard and blinks some more against the spots continuing to float around the edges of her vision. She's still pulling herself together when a muffled grunt comes from nearby, and then all goes eerie and still...

.

The footsteps that approach a moment later are...footsteps she thinks she knows. _Hopes_ she knows.

Even so, she shuffles a small step backwards when someone emerges from the shadows.

But then Din is in her face, and her vision doesn't need to be completely recovered to recognize him - she'd know him anywhere. Obviously. _Of course_.

Hanna releases breath from somewhere deep - _how long had she been holding that?_ \- and surges forward to throw herself into his chest and wrap an arm around his neck. Some air huffs from him, but that fades into a sigh as he grabs her back.

"Hanna…"

Kriff, but it's good to hear her name in that modulated tone again - it feels like it's been longer than a couple days. Hanna presses herself closer, is practically trying to crawl into his lap where he'd knelt down to meet her. He teeters, then slowly stands.

Hanna follows along but stays squeezed around him lest he get ideas about moving away.

"He said ...I thought…"

She's shaking. The grotesque visuals she'd created flash through her mind's eye again like a freaky holo-reel.

"I'm alright"

"I thought…"

Again, she can't finish.

Din tries to press her back, but she tightens her arm around his neck to ignore him.

"Hannah, I'm okay. I'm okay; let me…" he pushes her back by her hips.

She moves with the pressure this time but cups her hand around the back of his head to pull him down.

This, he allows. Without hesitating, he raises a hand and mirrors her gesture to duck and press his forehead against hers.

"I just…" Hanna shakes her head at herself, then turns that into a nuzzle against his helmet.

Which feels familiar and comforting.

"I'm here. I'm alright," he promises again. "Anything Callican said was - " he trails off in a curse and ticks his head down for a moment when the bay lights begin to snap on above them.

Peli must be on the move.

And speaking of Toro...Hanna eases back to stand flat on her feet and cranes around Din. The would-be hunter is sprawled in the dirt with a knife still jutting from his thigh, a blaster burn on his side, and his head flopped at an unreasonable angle.

"How did…" she hesitates, though she can't quite tear her eyes away from the body. "I cut him and then…"

She'd thought for a second that she'd died ...that maybe he had shot her in the face in surprise. Clearly not. But how?

"I'd call it more than a cut," Din guides her attention back toward him. "Motto didn't actually put the cuffs on. I used a flare to distract him."

"Oh…" Hanna nods - one mystery solved.

Din taps her bad shoulder.

"What did he do to you?"

"Peli fixed it while...while he - Din, _the baby_," her chest seizes because Toro's out of the picture, now, and the kid can make a dramatic entrance any time now, thank you very much. "We have to find-"

"We will"

"He already _looked_. I don't know where-"

"I have a guess about that," Peli announces as she marches across the bay. "I didn't want to say when fuckface might've overheard - Nut! Bolt! Scrap!" she shouts.

A trilling whine answers her, then a distant "_beep_!"

"Yes, it's safe. Beat feet and line up!"

More beeping and clanging, and then the bots jog into view.

"Sure, sure - we're just fine. Now, where's that baby? That was your _one_ job…" she asks, much to Hanna's surprise.

Is she implying ...had the droids done something? Could they have?

Scrap doesn't give her much confidence, for it merely gestures frantically at Din and then pops down flat to hide on the ground again.

Rapid and high-pitched beeping races out of both Nut and Bolt.

"Alright," Peli rolls her eyes. "Then _show_ me, would ya? We gotta **un**hide him…"

"He…" Hanna perks up. "They were-?"

"Gimme a sec… I'm on 'em, I'm on 'em…" Peli gestures and follows Nut and Bolt off around The Crest.

Scrap shivers where he's folded, obviously aware he's been abandoned but unwilling to chance doing anything about it.

.

Hanna waffles before deciding she needs to follow - the droids aren't skittish around _her_ and she doesn't want to wait. She _needs_ to see. Needs to find out if-

"Don't," Din catches her wrist when she reaches to swipe away her threatening tears.

She notices for the first time that there's blood drenching the cuff of her jacket and seeping between her fingers. Toro's blood…which makes her a little dizzy.

But when Din flips her hand over it stings and she sees she's sliced her palm open while using the knife. _She's_ the one bleeding.

"...I bled on you," is apparently her first concern.

Din snorts a short breath but doesn't dane to respond to her regard. Instead, he hikes Hanna's shirt up and twists the front of it into a knot before ordering, "squeeze that."

Once she does, a more appropriate flare of pain lances through her hand. She hisses. Din nods.

"...not an uncommon injury."

"Guess you'll have to teach me better technique…"

Hanna stares at the blood oozing into her shirt from her clenched fingers and wonders if it makes her feel better or worse that it's mostly hers instead of Toro's…

"If you want," he acquiesces and closes his hand around her forearm and pulls with gentle pressure she's more than willing to give into. "...Hanna…"

She takes a step closer.

.

"They shut off a vent!" Peli's shout cuts him off. "Hid him inside the insulated tubing - little womprat actually fell asleep. Hah!"

Peli steps into view around the front of the ship and, indeed, the kiddo in her arms looks distinctly _annoyed_ until he spots Din. Then he gives an exuberant "_squee_!"

Hanna smiles. _Laughs_. She lets relieved tears sneak from the corners of her eyes without much shame as the kid wiggles on Peli's arm. He reaches straight for Din, who helps close the distance between them and snatches the kid up. He obliges the little grabby hands and lifts the kid to eye-level so he can smile and smack at Din's mask.

Din indulges him until Hanna approaches; then he lowers him so Hanna can kiss his fuzzy little head. He coos his pleasure with this treatment right before he scrunches his fingers into her hair, which means Din has to set to work untangling his teeny grip while he tests Peli's story.

"They _hid_ him?" he sounds skeptical the droids hadn't just dropped him somewhere in fright.

Meanwhile, the kid isn't acting like he's ever been dropped in his life. He is giggling and tugging at hair, treating Din's competing fingers like a game.

"Of course!" Peli defends her assistants. "I gave 'em clear orders, didn't I? Take care of the kid. That's what I said. When you" - she nods approval at Hanna - "made ruckus trying to shoot that dickwit, they heard it and hid him somewhere quiet. They were already playing hide-n-find ...maybe the little man just thought it was a game."

Nut adds on a few beeps to that.

"It was very smart of you, yes - good job"

_"_BeepBoopBeepBeepBeep!_"_

"Uh-huh, _I know._..so next time you pretend you don't understand instructions I'll know you're lyin', won't I?"

_"_Brooooop," this sound seems much sadder than the last.

"Well, I agree...you're the best," Hanna promises when she straightens, hair fully free.

Her voice does shake a little despite her smile. She feels strange, a drifty limbo between laughing and crying.

"They'll be insufferable after this, but ...yeah. That's true…"

That teeters Hanna over the edge to laughing again. It's soft and short and a little teary, but...it feels that it alleviates a knot. One that had formed tight up under her diaphragm. It will unravel the rest of the way soon, she thinks. The kid is here. Din is here. They're both okay.

They're ...they're all okay.

They are.

.

.

Din soon has to slip away and check the area. He wants to see if anyone got curious about the blaster fire; the idea had made Peli laugh but he'd insisted - this was no time to take chances.

"...I need to get rid of him, too," he eyes Toro's body when he returns.

Which ...Hanna understands. Of course a corpse can't just stay here. She just doesn't want Din to leave in order to do it either.

"Nah," Peli refutes that like an absolute star. "Let the droids take care of him. You two can…" she trails off and wiggles her fingers between Hanna and Din. "Take care of things."

Din cocks his head in thought.

"...we do need to clean up…" he concedes and brushes a gloved hand over Hanna's cheek before combing into her hair.

She blinks through tears but nods.

"Please"

He ticks his chin and then looks back to Peli.

"You can watch him?" he nods at the kid swinging his feet in Peli's arm - he'd handed him back over to the mechanic when he went to slink around outside.

"Cour-"

"No, can we- ...we should bring him in with us," Hanna insists, unwilling to leave him even though she trusts Peli and they aren't going far in the first place.

She wants everybody close.

"Sure," Din agrees with the sentiment and fetches the kid before hesitating. "They'll….be able to take care of the body without an issue?"

"Uh-huh. They're small and spindly, but they're strong," Peli doesn't seem the least bit concerned about the bots. "Wake up, Scrap - you gotta help, too! No slacking around here…"

The third droid pops up to his feet and scuttles over to huddle close to his brethren. Peli only shakes her head.

"Fine," Din agrees with some lingering uncertainty painting his tone. "Are they charged enough to work through the night on repairs?" he jerks a thumb at The Crest.

"...my droids? In and around _your_ ship? And, ya know ...you're not going to shoot them, right? " Peli props her fists on her hips.

Din stares at the bots for a beat.

"Just go ahead and do it. They've proven themselves," he sounds willing...if not entirely convinced. "And I can pay for it."

He plucks a small, rattling sack off of his belt. The noise of it catches the kid's attention, but Din hands it over to Peli. She dumps a few credits into her hand and rolls them around her palm. Then nods.

"Alright...you got it," she nods, face firm and sure before she turns back to her helpers. "You heard him - now get to it!"

Din watches for a few moments as the droids clatter towards Toro and Peli offers suggestions of where to dispose of him. He probably wants to say something, wants to put himself in charge of that … but he resists and steps away.

Back towards Hanna.

.

.

By the time she's seated on the closed toilet, their medkit spread open before Din on the sink counter, Hanna is maybe regretting bringing the kiddo inside. He's excited to see his favorite man, but Din is trying to be diligent about cleaning and dressing Hanna's hand for her. The kid is wiggling all over Hanna's lap despite both adults' best efforts and it's slowing everything down. Not to mention there is a lot Hanna wants to say and ask that she doesn't have the focus for when she has to keep thwarting the little guy one-handed.

"Fine," Din finally sighs and kicks the door so it slides shut. "Just let him wander around on the floor…"

It isn't what the kid had wanted, but his feeble attempt to climb Din's pants is less distracting than nearly tipping off of Hanna's knees every few seconds.

"Better," Din grumbles and washes his hands once he deems Hanna's cut sufficiently flushed.

"...what happened out there in the desert?" Hanna doesn't hesitate now she can focus on one thing.

Din glances at her and then away to his scrubbing.

"It doesn't matter"

False, sir.

"Din. What happened? Toro...the bounty…"

He sighs.

"He killed the bounty when he figured out about us - _she_ told him, I guess," he sighs again and grabs a towel to rough his hands dry. "Decided there was more to gain in dragging us back to Nevarro…"

"I don't think he knew about-" Hanna's voice catches and she needs to swallow, "about the _Empire_. He just talked about the Guild, and he didn't realize the kid was ...well, probably the most important part."

Din shakes his head.

"The Guild will want all of us - me for their own punishment, and you and the kid to turn over," he considers and drums his thumb along the edge of the sink. "It's not surprising," he decides. "Whatever rumors he figured out are just that: rumors. It's not like they told me the truth about the job when I took it. They'll be keeping what he can do under wraps still."

"...makes sense," Hanna gazes down at the kid who is now expressing his annoyance by pulling on the frayed bits at the hem of Din's pants. "It's good, right? That people don't know?" she tilts her head back up.

"...the truth might scare some people off," he muses. "But yes. Best for all of this to be as mysterious as possible to other people."

Hanna snorts because she's in the middle of the entire thing and it still feels like a mystery to her, too.

.

"C'mon," Din is apparently done with speculation and holds his hand out for her wrist, which she gives him without further distraction. "It'll sting…"

She doesn't need the warning; she is familiar with bacta. Even so, she hisses when he thumbs a dollop of bacta across her palm, and she tries to retract her hand. Din tightens onto her wrist so she can barely move, but he doesn't offer an admonishment. He just rubs the ointment in further.

Meanwhile, Hanna squirms and waits for the burn to become something tingling and cool like it always does. Din's grip is grounding, but staring at the cut across her skin and the residue of blood makes her think about Toro. About the way it felt when his skin gave way under her hands...

"Alright?" Din's fingertips trail off her palm and along the length of her own fingers.

"Mmhmm…"

"It's feeling better?"

"Yeah…"

And it does. Truly. The bacta is fairly new and it's working quick.

Even so, while he drops a bandage over the cut and unfurls gauze around her hand to hold it in place...she's thinking about Toro.

Her adrenaline has faded, but the resulting relief is still tinged with some measure of fear. A worry that he wasn't a lone threat. A memory of the threat of him.

She reminds herself she'd helped neutralize said threat; she attacked him twice. She'd _stabbed_ him.

Her chest tries to reject the memory even if she isn't ...sorry. She's a little proud, even. He'd …._deserved_ it, though part of her isn't sure that's her call. But he'd threatened her. He'd threatened the kid. He'd threatened Din. And Peli, too.

She repeats to herself that it was worth it, worth it, worth it, _worth it_.

"Hanna…" she looks up to find Din with his head cocked at her. "...that feels alright?" he presses a finger lightly against the bandage he's finished for her.

She splays and stretches her fingers to test.

"Yeah…"

She wiggles her wrist free of his hold and hooks a finger into his belt to tug him closer where she can loop the arm around him. It's not the world's best hug with her head resting on his side, just above his hip, but it feels nice anyway. Warm.

The kid takes interest in the closeness and crawls up onto Din's boot to try and fit himself between their shins.

"I'm really glad you're here," her throat goes thick and she blinks back new tears she feels a little silly for.

They're _fine_.

All of them.

She should be happier.

She _is_ happy. She's just emotional with it.

.

"I am here," he shifts a step back despite a small protest from her only so he can crouch before her and get an arm around her middle. "I'm here, and I'm alright," he repeats like he knows part of her needs to hear it.

She'd known that since she heard his voice on the comm message, but seeing it and feeling it is exponentially more important.

"I know," Hanna says for both of their sakes.

She raises a hand and slides her knuckles across the cheek of his mask; she deeply wishes he could feel it. In lieu of that she drops her hand to his collar and slips it under the neck of his cowl just above his chest plate, where she can feel the warmth of his skin through his top and watch the rise and fall of his breathing.

Din doesn't seem to mind. He traces a feather-light touch over her scratched chin and her bruised, split lip.

"I'm okay, too," she promises.

Battered, but fine. Relatively.

"When I saw him with his hands on you," he shakes his head "...and you were obviously hurt…"

His hand trails down her neck and across her own collar bones to the shoulder she's been favoring.

"Technically," Hanna sighs. "_He_ didn't do that. The floor did that ...and gravity. I fell," she gestures vaguely off behind them, "from the cockpit."

He doesn't laugh but she likes to think he might be smirking at her bid for humor and to steal Toro's credit. She doesn't ask, however - just in case he's not. That would ruin it, and she needs the attempt.

His touch doesn't grow harsh on her shoulder but he curls his fingers to examine the joint until she leans away.

"Peli helped me ...she knew how to leverage it back in place"

"...I like her," Din grades now that he has that information.

Hanna's smile is small but real.

"Me, too…"

"I should've killed him slower, though…"

_There's_ a thing to say.

"It's over," Hanna counters. "That's what matters."

It might not be over, to be honest. There's still plenty to talk about, but ...they're safe again for now. They can get their repairs and move on. Be done with this.

.

Din gives some concession to this with a tilt of his head. Then he plucks her hand off his chest to look at his bandage job again.

"You -"

"Mah!" The kid coos loudly to make himself known and is now clambering up onto Din's knee with some actual success.

Din watches the progression with patience, but Hanna takes pity and fits her foot under his little butt to help him along. Once he's standing on Din's leg the kid's smile is quite satisfied until he chuffs at Din.

"You'll never learn if I do it for you"

Like he understands but rejects what he's been told, little guy turns his back on Din and clambers into Hanna's lap instead and burrows into her stomach to reward her for her help. She'd already stripped off her bloody shirt, and he seems to like nuzzling into her bare skin.

And, _yeah _okay, he needs to learn his own strength and independence, but it's already been a long day whether the kid knows it or not. She wants to help.

"He's trying to make you build muscle, huh?" Hanna traces one of his ears, and he looks up with a tiny-toothed smile. "Hi sweet boy…"

"...you did good by him," Din still has hold of her hand. "You did good."

"...I could've done better," Hanna still rues the loss of her gun, the way she'd given herself away too early - she should've been more careful, shouldn't have panicked.

Din shakes his head and follows it with:

"I could've, too...at a few different turns. But we're here," he pats her hip with the hand he had fitted around her. "We learned from it."

Indeed. And they still have plenty of that to discuss, but maybe he's right. They got through it. That's the key.

.

With no reverence to their conversation, the kid pushes himself away from Hanna's middle and scoots along her leg, his fingers grabbing for her and Din's intertwined hands.

"Ah-ah, no touching," Din swipes him away and stands up. "You need to be careful," he tells the kid like he'll understand all the implications. "...and I need to go find something to make a sling for you," he points at Hanna's shoulder.

"I'm-"

"And ice," he talks over her. "You'll need to be easy with it a while…"

She doesn't argue.

Being careful sounds great.


	26. We're Here, Pt 2

_Hey all! Here is Chapter 26 ...sorry if you got double notifications? The chapter posted in the wrong format, and then my internet was being a disagreeable last night and I had to give up and just delete. I think we're working smoothly this morning tho! Hope this works..._

**Chapter 26: We're Here, Pt. 2**

Din assembles a sling for Hanna with the ease of someone who's had to make his own more than once. It isn't comfortable, exactly, but the fabric strap is soft enough that it doesn't dig into her shoulder much - that seems like the kind of detail that was designed from prior experience.

Once she's set, they both focus on convincing the kid that now is in fact the correct time to sleep. Doing so requires a late night dinner and warmed up powdered-milk. He's on his second cup before he starts to nod off ...but he's stubborn about it.

He also fussily insists on Din's presence, so it's Din pacing around with the kid in the crook of his elbow and the small milk cup clutched in his other hand so the kid can keep a bleary eye on it

.

Hanna sympathizes. She's not exactly feeling spritely either.

After a quick and mildly-satisfying sonic shower, she climbs up to slouch on Din's bed with a gel ice pouch while he continues baby-watch. Her body is exhausted, but she's still a little wound up. She has to repeatedly remind herself that all is well.

The slow, rhythmic tred of Din's footfalls and his occasional soft word to the kid is evidence of that...

.

"You should lay down"

Hanna hadn't meant to close her eyes at all but opens them to Din in front of her, one hand on her knee and no kid in sight.

"...he's asleep?"

Din nods, "For now."

Hanna smiles, a small and lazy thing. She reaches out to slip her fingers between Din's, and when he squeezes back she tries to tug him forward. He doesn't resist and pull away, but nor does he give to the pressure.

"I need to clean up, too"

With that, he moves away to start stripping off his armor.

Though Hanna's fatigued, she takes a passive interest and rolls her head where it rests on the bulkhead so she can watch him properly. She is sure he notices - he notices everything - but he's quiet about it. Maybe it's why he's undressing slowly; that, or -

He hasn't complained or made a blatant show of favoring any part of himself, but - _hello_ \- he's Din. His relationship to pain is a fraught one.

"Are you alright?"

Only then does he acknowledge her gaze and meet it. His sigh is deep.

"...a little banged up," he raises a placating hand when Hanna straightens. "But it's nothing."

"Alright. So then let me see"

He sighs again, and it's so familiar and _him_ that she'd grin if she weren't worried.

Din finishes tugging away his cowl and unbuttons his top to fold it down. Hanna notes right away that his elbow is scuffed up, but the other scars she can see are old - been there, touched that. When he turns around, however, there's a bruise along the back of his shoulder and a welt darkening near the small of his back.

Hanna inhales through her teeth and slides off the bed.

"I told you - it's nothing"

"Would you say that if it were me?" she checks, though she already knows the answer and isn't at all surprised when he says nothing.

He also doesn't protest when she trails a dainty touch over each mark.

"What happened?"

"Bounty was waiting for us. She got off a few shots ...the beskar protected me from the worst of it, but there's still an impact."

"So...bacta?"

"Nah," he rolls his shoulder. "Not worth it - no real damage."

The damage looks quite _real_ to Hanna, but she understands his meaning: this wasn't an injury to close and protect from infection, and they have a finite amount of medicine.

"...I'll help with the numbing cream after your shower."

"...alright."

She knows she's ruined his plan to silently retreat and take care of it without assistance or sympathy, but it was a ridiculous plan so she doesn't feel bad. She's pleased he's letting her insinuate herself without an argument.

"...gonna be patient while I shave?" is his half-hearted gripe when he glances over his shoulder.

"Maybe"

He hums in either annoyance or amusement, but he pats her elbow in a warm, bracing way when he turns back around.

"Relax," he nods back at the bed.

.

Convinced that he wants her to fall asleep and forget her self-assigned duty, Hanna does not get back into the bed. He may not think he needs any assistance, but _he'd_ helped patch _her _up and at minimum he deserves reciprocity.

So she stays on her feet while the sonic shower runs in the background. After it's been off for a sufficient amount of time she heads to the bathroom and finds the door is already slid wide.

"Still shaving?"

"Just cleaning"

She finds Din wearing a towel around his waist, his flight suit in a heap on the floor, and he's flushing out the sink and drying off his razor. Tidy as always.

"Feel better already ..."

He continues to face the sink in silent accommodation, so Hanna retrieves the numbing agent from the medkit before he can change his mind. She's a little clumsy with one arm propped in a sling, but soon she's smoothing the gel onto his back without great trouble. Her palm still feels painless and tingly for now because of the bacta, and she's grateful.

She opts to use a little extra gel on his back since the bruise seems nastier, then moves to his shoulder.

She can't make it a full blown massage like she had the last time she did this for him, but she finds she doesn't mind. This is different. Less thrilling and taboo, more relief and familiar comfort.

"He - Toro ...he said the bounty shot you in the neck," Hanna recalls.

"...few inches right and she would have.

Her fingers falter on the smooth but blemished skin.

It's not as though she doesn't _know_ that - she has eyes - but the statement is so blase...somehow it catches her off guard.

"Sorry…I sh-" he starts to twist his head around, but Hanna hurries her fingers back to work and he stops.

"No, no. I guess you're right..."

.

Once she's done, Hanna presses up against his back and wraps her arm around his waist. Burrows her face between his shoulders. Drops a kiss lest he feel like just a pillow.

"I'm sorry he made you believe ...that"

"S'not your fault," Hanna's answer is muffled into his shoulders, so she turns and lays her cheek against the firm, smooth skin instead. "I shouldn't have trusted him ...I didn't, I think. I just wasn't sure what to do first, and help seemed … ...ideal."

Hanna remembers her doubt in Toro and can't help wondering what she could've done sooner…

"Makes sense. You definitely needed a pilot," Din reasons. "I should give you some lessons…"

Hanna can't imagine how long it would take to be confident in actually piloting a spacecraft but nods against him anyhow. She knows the mechanics and the theory; it can't hurt to know more. And with him there to supervise there would be little to fear...

"We need a plan," she goes further. "For if something happens…something could _actually_ happen."

"Hanna-"

"I'm not trying to be morbid," she squeezes her arm around his stomach. "But I haven't exactly been great at running with him-"

"That's-"

"And he'd still be alright out here if something happened to _me_, but -"

"That's not true...I—," Din does turn around heedless of her grip now, so Hanna steps back. "Don't say that," he says more firmly.

"I don't mean I'm going anywhere," she rushes and then sighs. "I'm sorry," she droops against the wall and plunks her head back. "I only mean we can't pretend having a plan is crazy. We need to flesh it out more, you know. Like ...maybe I should know where you want to look for your people. Or...would they even help me without you? Could they protect the kid?"

"Hanna..."

"I know you can't tell me everything, but ...I'd like your input on where I should try to go. If ...if... I don't know…"

She _does_ know, but in light of everything it's hard to say.

"You're right," Din's voice is gruff when he interjects this time. "That's not crazy … ...but we're not having this whole conversation tonight."

Hanna nods slow but pacified. She doesn't have the energy or wherewithal for it tonight either.

"Agreed"

"Then head back to bed for now - I'm right behind you"

.

Din hadn't tried to tell her to mind her business and hunker into her _own_ bed, so she climbs back onto his bunk and sits back where she can dangle her legs over the edge lazily.

When he returns he is naked save for his helmet, and Hanna grins through a hooded gaze while watching him redress.

"You should be laying down," he tells her again but doesn't push the point, just hefts himself onto the bed with a grunt and props himself next to her.

Yeah, she doubts either of them will be uber comfortable no matter which way they lounge.

Din presses his shoulder into hers.

Hanna twists enough so she can throw her legs across his lap. That feels suitably warm and she cuddles in a little more. He scrubs a hand over her socked foot and then rubs her leg up to her knee...then back down to repeat. It's soothing but languid and unassuming.

"...I'm really glad you're back," it's the understatement of the year, she thinks, but her words feel sluggish and she's just glad her voice is steady.

Din squeezes her ankle.

"I came as quick as I could"

"Yeah…"

There, huddled together, they fill in the blanks for each other.

Hanna tells him about working repairs with Peli and the rest of the story Toro has spun when he showed up. How she did find Din's message, but Toro interrupted so she'd attacked him - Din heartily approves of this despite knowing how the attempt turned out.

Din tells her about his trip through the desert; getting off-track once or twice and coming across Raiders. Then there was Toro's betrayal - he'd found the bounty dead in the sand and _known_. He explained why he'd had to return on a dewback, a slow and enfuriating ride to be sure.

"I palmed money off of her, though...plus what Callican had on him," he finishes with the possible upside to it all.

Hanna nods.

"That's one relief…"

"Mmm," Din slides his arm around Hanna's shoulders to trace a mindless pattern over her arm.

She's tired. They _should_ be laying down to sleep, the both of them. But ...that doesn't feel most important right now.

.

"Ooeye! Ah?"

The kid makes himself known after a couple quiet minutes, proving it's a blessing that they aren't rushing to sleep.

Hanna uncurls herself to look around Din and sees the kid's cabinet is open and he's already climbing down like it's a fine thing to do in the middle of the night.

"Shit"

"I got him," Din stays her hand.

The way he roll-pushes himself off the bunk in a fluid motion is graceful and therefore highly annoying.

.  
"What's one more in here?" he sighs when he returns.

The kid impedes the ease with which they can curl up together, but he's small and is willing to just enjoy and be quiet together for ...well, for at least a few minutes.

"I wonder if he can feel we're all uneasy or if he's thrown off because he took a ...well I guess a _nap_ out there," Hanna watches him fuss and squirm and lean off Din's lap to rub at the nearest blanket.

"Both? ...neither?"

They chuckle together.

But then:

"No," Din nudges the kid away when he crawls across Hanna's knees to investigate her hand and its bandages.

He is ignored at once, and the kid reaches again.

"No," Din won't be outdone and guides the kid's arm away a second time.

He pauses his attempts long enough to click his claws a Din like a pincer.

"Try it," Din dares, pleased with the distraction.

"That's my favorite thing he does," Hanna chuckles - and if Din's not smirking under his helmet she'll eat the kids cloak.

"...you say that about everything he does."

Yeah? So? Like it's her fault he's adorable?

"I do not," she denies altogether.

Before Din can counter with evidence, the kid steps forward and clutches one of Hanna's fingers again.

"What did I say?" Din shifts so he can haul him away.

"Wait," Hanna stops him. "We'll show him ...you have to be _gentle_ when someone's hurt," she smooths two fingers over the kid's cheek and then does the same to her wrapped palm. "Gentle… see?"

He cocks his head, then coos and pets the back of Din's hand where it's sitting on his tummy.

"Yes. _Gentle_...very nice.."

She flips her hand and offers her palm to the kid so he can examine the new bandage. Din releases him with a non-committal noise - only, she supposes, because she won't die if the kid throws the gentle idea out the window and decides it's time to play.

But he doesn't. The kid pats her bandage with a delicate touch and makes a gentle noise in his throat.

"Very good"

Hanna raises an eyebrow at Din.

"Coincidence," he chuckles, but there's warmth evident in it.

"Nah. He's a genius…"

"Run that by me again when he provides he understands height ...and gravity"

"Well that one is tricky," Hanna defends, smiling. "Gravity differs in every atmos-" she stops when her hand feels hot, and she looks down where the kid's hand is still cupped in her palm.

He's not _doing_ anything, but ...then what's that weird feeling? Almost like her hand's fallen asleep…"

"What?"

"I'm…" she's crazy, maybe...but she flexes and stretches her hand experimentally.

Nothing pulls or feels tight. But...how?

"Hanna?"

She looks at the kid, but he offers no explanation. Just plops onto his but and smiles, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling.

"I think he just…"

Nope. She can't say it. It sounds mad. Utterly bizarre…

Not that ripping the gauze and peeling her bacta patch off is the picture of calm and collected...but that's what she does.

"Hey!"

"It's gone," Hanna blinks at her hand.

Bacta is good, but the grade they have isn't _that_ good. Isn't so fast.

Din leans forward and snatches her hand, tilting it towards himself like he just caught a bad angle through his visor.

"The hell…" he pushes his thumb into the soft center of her palm.

It doesn't even feel tender.

They both stare at the kid, who is blinking slow like he's finally properly sleepy.

"Maker..."

.

"Good job little guy," Hanna can't quite smile over her shock yet.

"I'll say ...c'mere," Din gathers the kid up and lifts him toward Hanna's left shoulder. "Go on…"

"Din"

"...let's just see."

The kid finds the strap of her sling and scratches it ...then leans in ...and nibbles the fabric with his teeny teeth. He does so a few times before growing bored and attempting to turn back to Din.

"Worth a try," Din pulls him up to eye-level for inspection.

"Yeah…" Hanna prods and rubs her hand some more, still checking for some illusion.

When she glances up again, Din has pulled the kid into his shoulder and he's burrowing into his soft, clean shirt.

"Took it out of him…"

"Seems like it," Din's hand spans the kid's entire back and pets down along his tunic, slow and gentle.

"Then let's actually lay down with him ...try to get some sleep too"

Neither proposes the idea of returning to separate beds, so it remains cramped. Truth be told, Hanna would like to stretch out more since she's sore to begin with ...but up here she can feel and see both of them breathing.

That's worth it.

.

Hanna wakes first. Though it's hard to tell inside the shadowy confines of the ship, she feels like she'd gotten a few hours of solid rest. It's nice for a moment. Soft and still o-

She shoves up onto her good elbow when she hears some clanging ...but it's muffled. Distant.

"...jus' the droids," Din's slow, sleep-dragged voice explains, and his hand twitches to pat her arm.

Right. He'd asked for repairs to continue through the night.

"Mmhmm," she scoots herself around and shimmies down the bed.

"S'matt-" he clears his throat. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I'm going to use the 'fresher… ...and," she cringes when she lands on her feet and feels a couple bruises throb for it. "I'll take the kid."

Little man is now cockeyed and spread-armed over Din's lower abdomen. How he'd wiggled down there Hanna doesn't know, but she's sure it means Din hadn't been allowed particularly restorative rest.

Ignoring Din's dull protest, Hanna shovels the kid up and re-homes him back into his closet. There, she fluffs and tucks his blankets so he'll stay warm and - fingers crossed! - content.

.

In the 'fresher, Hanna pauses at the mirror to take stock of herself. Her lip is a little puffy... she probably should've iced it a little more, but even if she had she'd have this little Toro souvenir.

_'She was too good a shot ...caught Mando in the neck.'_

Karking dick.

A fresh surge of hate boils through her. Remembering that he can't meddle with them anymore is a cooling relief in her chest, which...maybe is a little sick.

She thinks again of how it felt to stab Toro and the eerie angle of his neck after Din had finished with him …

She shudders despite herself.

Rather than dwell, she slaps the light off and retreats back to the hold. Her plan is to return to bed, but once she sees Din prone and lax on his bunk ...she wants him rest and recharge just a bit more than she wants to snuggle in and disturb him.

.

After some waffling, she fetches her shoes and heads out the back instead.

It's brighter in the bay, so apparently morning is well on.

"Look who's alive"

Hanna smiles at Peli, "Morning."

"It is that," the mechanic confirms and then stares past Hanna. "Y'all alright in there?"

"Everyone's okay … ...how about you?"

"Sure. I caught a few hours while these three cleaned up and got started...now I'm charging 'em one at a time so we keep a constant rotation of work. Nut should be done soon," she checks her watch.

"Okay...can I help?"

Peli tips her head back to stare down her nose at Hanna.

"Thought he said you sliced up your hand…"

Ah. That.

"Nope," it's easy for Hanna to lie when she can thrust out her hand and prove it. "I'm good. That was Toro's blood."

Peli's eyebrow is curious, but a brief exam of Hanna's hand shows it's as pristine as ever, so what else was there to say? _Of course_ it had just been a misunderstanding. What else could it be?

Certainly not inexplicable 5-second healing.

"...you're still one arm down," Peli tuts. "But we'll find something for you to do. C'mon and get some caf first…"

Hanna is more than a smidge uncomfortable reentering Peli's office after being stuck in there, scared and in the dark, for hours not-so-long ago.

But the lights are on and the smell of caf is strong, so...it's strange but not creepy. Mostly.

"Cheers," they clink their small mugs once Peli fills them.

"Should have you out of here by tomorrow morning," Peli guesses once they shuffle out . "Maybe even tonight without hang ups…"

"Looking forward to kicking us out?"

"Well, I don't like being _bored_, but...this has been more excitement than I need. No offense."

Hanna isn't at all offended and tells her so.

"...I'm not the biggest fan of this place anyway. _No offense_."

"Oh yeah? _Really_? After all the good memories you've made?" Peli plays dumb, then waves a hand in dismissal.

"We did bring you trouble ...I'm sorry for that," Hanna's voice almost - _almost_ \- warbles because as she says it she realizes no one's ever going to apologize to _her_ and she hadn't asked for this mess either.

Well. At least she's gotten a couple good things out of it all.

"Appreciate that...but I've seen worse and weirder than that jackwab," Peli maintains a stubborn air as she sips her caf.

"Worse, huh?"

"Mmhmm...I actually _got_ shot once. Leaving the cantina," she nods toward the door. "Walked right into a brawl and - _pop!"_

She pats her thigh to indicate.

"Stars…"

"That was a couple years back….not a lot of people last around here," she sounds a little proud. "Even ole Boba Fett - they say his bones are lost out in the desert."

Hanna considers.

"Who?"

Peli grins

"No? … ...well, all I know's filth and gossip. You gotta ask your boy about that one."

.

.

.

When Din strolls onto the scene an hour or so later, Nut is back to work, Scrap is charging, and Hanna is sitting at the bottom of the ramp with several boxes to sort used drill bits. It's base work, but at least she's busy.

"Morning"

He grunts and drops down next to her.

"You didn't come back to bed…"

"I wanted to let you rest," Hanna keeps thumbing through parts and after a moment side-eyes him to find his face fully turned toward her. "...I know I should've gotten more sleep, too."

"You should," he nods in her peripheral before he reaches for the box in her lap

"I've got it"

Perhaps she sounds a little more defensive than she means to because he gives up without a second try. His slides his hand past her waist to rub her back instead.

"Did you sleep at all?" he checks.

"Yeah, I did," Hanna glances up and then away.

"What's wrong?" his hands skims up her shoulder to cup the back of her neck.

Hanna shakes her head, "I just….feel restless."

"Unsafe?"

Hanna mulls that word over. Is that it? Is she waiting for another hunter to barge in? That is always a possibility looming in the corners of reality, but…

"Mmm….no," she denies. "Just uncomfortable."

His thumb scrapes back and forth along her hairline. Hanna leans into his touch but has to slide her eyes away.

"...where's Motto?" Din no doubt clocks her retreat but let's it go for the moment.

"She ran out to the market for oil and a few other things ...said her favorite place is busiest in the evening so she wanted to go now"

"Thanks for not joining her," his fingers drift down to her back again and scratch loosely along her spine.

"I wouldn't have without mentioning it," Hanna knows better.

Anyway, she's hardly curious about Mos Eisley anymore. She's seen a few sights, met a few people, and heard more than enough stories.

"She mentioned someone. She said I should ask you about...Boba Fett?"

A garbled noise snorts out of Din's helmet, which notches up Hanna's curiosity.

"What about him?"

Hanna shrugs her good shoulder and fiddles with a thin bit.

"I hadn't heard the name, and she said you'd know who she meant… "

"I know him," he doesn't sound….glad of it.

"...how?"

"Occupational hazard. He's a bounty hunter," he snatches a handful of the mix-matched bits in front of her before she can stop him since her hand is occupied.

"Not a friend, I take it?" Hanna resists the petulant urge to wrestle them back.

"He's ...something."

Hanna watches him twist the pieces in his hand and shunt then quickly into the appropriate boxes.

"She said people think he's dead out in the desert"

Din inclines his head.

"...people think a lot of things"

This mysterious bastard.

And maybe she shouldn't be charmed by that she probably shouldn't even want to know, but she feels compelled to ask.

"...gonna let me in on the secret?"

"No secret," he denies but still doesn't go on.

_Sure sure_. She files the name away.

"She, um, said something else interesting about the desert the other night when we were playing cards … …" Hanna recalls.

Din doesn't bite at the verbal bait but goes back to grab more bits to sort. He ignores the way she flicks at the back of his wrist to stop him, too.

In the end, she goes on sans prompting

"...I guess people used to spread rumors about an old wizard living out in the dunes."

Din twirls a drill bit between his fingers without a word for a while.

"...wizard. "

"Yeah, that's what she said: _powers and stuff._..what do you think of that?"

A long breath comes from him before he answers:

"...I think we don't have time to comb the desert."

"Well, yeah...I get that"

"And... I think people who live in a dominant area like _this_," he gestures at nothing in particular, "tend to believe a lot of mysterious things about anyone who choose to live outside of that. Most of it is worth less than blerg shit."

"Probably so," Hanna agrees because his point stands, and yet …

"_Hey_..." he bids and waits for her to look him in the visor. "It doesn't matter what he is ...or what he can do. He's with us."

Hanna's smile is wider than it should be - she's not surprised, exactly.

That's not it.

But hearing him say that sort of thing is better than just knowing.

"I understand. Answers don't change anything," she rushes to agree. "They'd just be nice…"

"They would," Din ticks a curt nod. "...maybe we can come back one day"

She chews on her lip to help school her face after this casual declaration of a future where they're all still together. His plan that their future is _safe_r.

"Stop that," he reaches for her lip, but Hanna bats down his hand and laughs.

...at herself. At a nice moment. At _them_, which feels good.

.

"Eyaa!" a squeaky coo sounds off, and they find the kid shuffling towards the top of the Razor's ramp behind them.

"Fiend," Din sighs.

"That's rude," Hanna bumps her elbow into his.

"What? He's a sneak"

"Or smart"

"...reckless."

"... ...how about brave?" Hanna counters again, grinning this time around.

A quiet chuckle trickles from his helmet in response.

"Hmm! ...hmm?" the kiddo has stopped halfway down the ramp with his stubby arms raised.

_"Sneak_," Din repeats more firmly.

"Oh, no you don't," Hanna crooks a finger at the boy "You can make it a few more feet."

He blinks his wide eyes. Wiggles his buttoned nose. Waits. Grunts a far-too-cute grunt. Inky when this fails does he condescend to toddle the rest of the way down to them.

Din snags him so he can't dump himself into one of the nearby boxes.

"He's probably hungry…"

.

Din's assumption is greeted by mechanical jabbering before one of the droids creaks over. Bolt - Hanna knows him by the scuff down his leg - is bolder than his compatriots and proves so by making a direct approach to Din.

"What?"

Bolt holds both arms out.

"Forget it"

More chittering before Bolt taps its hand up to its face. Then it shakes its head and points its fingers at the kid's mouth.

"The crackers?" Hanna guesses since the droids had found and handed off some of Peli's snacks to the kid when they thought she couldn't see them.

Bolt bounces on his feet and nods, then thrusts both hands out at the kid again.

The time the kid reaches back.

"...how about you _bring_ the food to him, instead," Din declines a hand-over.

Bolt looks at Hanna, who shrugs. Without her explicit support it beeps and throws up aggravated hands before clattering off to do as recommended.

"Might've broke his heart…"

"Good thing there's a couple mechanics around to fix him, then"

Hanna snorts.

"Right"

"So...what other wisdom has Peli been imparting?"

"Ah. Mostly just parts-market advice…"

.

.

"And don't leave without this - found it at my favorite scrap stall," Peli shoves a slim box into Hanna's hands after repairs have been finished that night and Din's decided they must leave posthaste.

"Wh-" Hanna pulls back a bent flap to find a long, lightly-tarnished heating element.

"Diagnostic scan said yours was shot all to hell"

"...yeah, but we agreed: necessities only," Hanna frowns.

Peli mugs at her in response.

"I _remember _...but this one overpaid," she shoves a finger at Din, "and this one," she motions most gently to the kid, "deserves a nice warm bath."

Thus spoken, she crosses her arms with finality.

"...a hot shower will be great - thanks," Hanna absolutely doesn't look to meet Din's gaze when she says so.

"I didn't do it for _you. _I just gotta finish a job right, don't I? Besides, the kid-"

"Needs a hot bath ...I heard. I'm on it," Hanna assures her.

She reserves a few seconds to envision forcing a hug on the mechanic... but she opts against it.

"Good. You're entitled to it, aren't you Bright Eyes?" Peli titters at the kid on Din's arm, waving a cutesy wave that she most likely doesn't reserve for many others. "Yes. Yes you are..."

The kid giggles and squeezes the tips of Peili's fingers to waggle them around with abandon.

Once she extracts her hands and returns them to her pockets, Din retreats a few steps.

"Thank you," Hanna remains. "For everything…"

"Eh"

"No ...we're lucky that we were assigned to land here. We owe you - anything you need."

Peli shrugs.

"I've got your callsign," she tilts her head toward her office but flips up her hands in a '_so what!?' _fashion. "Now go on. Get. Free up my garage."

Hanna scoffs.

"You're impossible…"

A _'breeep!' _of agreement comes from somewhere behind Peli, but Hanna can't tell if it had come from Nut or Bolt. In either case, Peli feigns temporary deafness.

"Safe travels…"

Hanna rolls her eyes but manages a smile with her nod. If Peli wants to pretend it's nothing, she'll give the women that - she's earned what she wants. It's been a hell of a few days.

"You're going to be alright?" Hanna can't not check, and she sees Din shift in her periphery.

" Me? I'm always alright"

Of course.

Naturally.

Yes.

"Remember. We owe you.."

"I hear you, I hear you…"

Hanna doesn't know what she could ever do to repay Peli for her camaraderie (accidental, or not), but it's some sort of consolation that she's offering.

"Take care, then"

"Obviously. Always."

.

"Someone could track us here, right? To _her_?" Hanna asks up in the cockpit a few minutes later.

"...she doesn't have a hard connection to us."

His tone seems sure, but Din is jamming buttons and adjusting levers to prepare for take-off while he answers, so how focused is he?

"Really?"

"Yeah…."

Hanna waits a few beats while he dials in an unknown computation.

"Din"

"...hmm?"

"Look at me..."

Once the engine chugs to life and then whirs with the necessary efficiency, he does so.

"...do you think she'll be alright?" Hanna tries to pretend she isn't scratching the kid's back in agitation - it's because she wants to, because it's fun.

That's all.

"...I can't promise that on Tatooine," he breathes out slow, ever forthright. "But I don't think we'd be tracked to her easily."

That's not a promise. Not a guarantee by a longshot.

But...it's probably the best they can do. Maybe they really won't be able to come back here. Maybe there's no guarantees here - ever.

That would track.

So Hanna nods.

Din nods back.

"Okay. Okay...good enough. So where to next?"

"Let's talk about that…"

.

.

.

**A/N:**

**Hope that was worth the wait!**  
**Season 2 Spoiler (kindda) : I got an ask about whether I'll be using Baby Yoda's name in this story at any point ...and the answer, I suppose, is yes. Eventually. When it makes sense to..whenever it fits in.**

**Which ...hmm, idk exactly when that will be. I originally set out on this story to follow all of Season 1, as in hit every episode in order. However, this story has also turned into something much longer than I originally planned (whoops! lol) so I've changed plans a bit. Soooo I'll be branching off from the show now that the trio is leaving Tattooine ...I think I'll hit on the rest of the stuff that happens in Season 1 eventually, but I'm thinking the group has some other things to do. **


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